


Fae Secrets

by Liv Campbell (perdikitti), William Alexander (zannyvix)



Series: Faerie Gifts [5]
Category: Alpha and Omega - Patricia Briggs, Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: Bluegrass Pack, Complicated Relationships, Fae Drama, Fair Game Spoilers, Fighting, Gay Male Character, M/M, Pack Drama, Relationship(s), Spoilers, Werewolves, dominance fights, relationship drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5281664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdikitti/pseuds/Liv%20Campbell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zannyvix/pseuds/William%20Alexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the fae make a bold political statement, Sam Willoughby's personal life erupts in turmoil. With his love life and the health of his pack hanging in the balance, can Sam survive the rocky road ahead?</p><p>(spoils the ending of Fair Game by Patricia Briggs!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Verdict

**Author's Note:**

> This story spoils the ending of Patricia Briggs' Fair Game. Please DO NOT READ if you care about spoilers!
> 
> We do not own anything in Patricia Briggs' universe. We just enjoy playing in it.
> 
> For the record, we prefer to write things that interweave with the existing canon, while disrupting the original world as little as possible. I want the stories and characters to feel as if they could be part of the same world, but playing out in different locations at the same time, before, or after events we see happen in the books and short stories. The folks we write with have similar aspirations. Canon characters may make appearances or be referenced, but our stories are primarily of other wolves and other packs. They're dealing with the same strictures and difficulties that the canon characters have dealt with, just in their own ways. For reference, this takes place right after Fair Game (Alpha and Omega series) ends and right before Frost Burned (Mercy Thompson series) begins.
> 
> Many thanks to Zannah for helping bring the Bluegrass Pack to life, in particular Sam Willoughby, Collin, and the always memorable Aggie!

I stared slack jawed at the television. Rob’s television. He’d replaced my static-prone old tube with a slick flat screen a couple years back. Now I wished I still had the old set. At least the static might have let me believe I wasn’t seeing the mess unfolding live on that crystal clear screen.

We’d all followed the case in Boston. How could we not? A family of serial killers with bigtime political connections and a taste for doing in supernatural folk was big news. Three werewolves had died at their hands, and so had a lot of fae. The Marrok’d sent his people to investigate, the only Omega wolf in the whole of America and her mate, his son. Anna and Charles had brought them down, and they were compelled to testify, a first for the human courts.

While we were known to the public as species, not all of us were out there, and it ain’t easy to spot someone who ain’t purely human if they don’t want to be found. It turned out one of the killers, the only survivor of the trio once the Marrok’s son caught them, had used his CNTRP connections to give them targets. We’d been warned that Cantrip, the Combined Nonhuman and Transhuman Relations Provisors agency that monitored the fae and werewolves, kept lists of names of confirmed and suspected supernatural folk. This was the first time a non-government group had actively used that list against our kind. Call me a pessimist, but I expected it would happen again and soon.

Rob watched with me all through the weeks as the trial progressed, tight-lipped and white faced, with a kind of intensity I’d only seen flashes of before. He wasn’t as bad as the rest of us wolves. The whole pack was antsy and bad tempered, and I’d been avoiding the main house as much as possible as a result. My wolf was on edge, especially with the tidbits the news people released. Sitting around with the pack would only get me dragged into pointless fights.

It was hard to leash the wolf with the trial underway. Like O.J. Simpson in the nineties, or when the fae came out, everybody and their cousin had some deep need to shoot their mouths off about it. I had to cancel a couple of last minute offers for some contracting work because I was so on edge after the designer and client started on their own theories. Worse yet, the trial had ramped up the anti-fae sentiment to the extreme. Bright Future and their ritzy pals at the John Lauren Society had arranged for several demonstrations at the university, calling for every fae to be arrested and removed from the U.S. It was hard to let Rob out of my sight with all the hullabaloo. Though he could look after himself, my instinct was to protect, to do whatever I could to keep him safe. I tried my best not to fret or smother him, but it was hard.

The trial itself wasn’t televised, but they played soundbites from the defense and prosecution both, and it was easy to see which way the wind was blowing. The last surviving serial killer, that Les Heuter, was the real monster. He was playing hard at being harmless, being the victim, a poor hapless human caught up in circumstances beyond his control, forced into it by an overbearing, abusive uncle who turned him and his cousin both into killers. It didn’t help our case any that his kin were taken out with two werewolves in the room and precious few human witnesses to their atrocities. The public and the press saw Heuter as a tragic boy. They focused on his sob story, not his deeds. They ignored the real monsters who helped him rape and torture innocent little children.

The dead uncle took most of the blame. The Marrok’s second, his son Charles Cornick, was the one who had killed the creature that was Heuter’s other scapegoat. Heuter’s cousin had been a half-fae with strength enough to kidnap and murder werewolves at the urging of his family. Charles scared me as much as anyone, but he was no mindless beast to kill for the fun of it. I knew damn well he’d done what he had to in order to protect his mate. The humans didn’t see it that way, especially when some of the police photos of the dead fae leaked onto the Internet. The media had no trouble using Charles and the fae he’d killed to paint everything supernatural as one big scary monster.

I’d tried to talk to Rob about the trial, but he evaded all my questions with the skill and grace of a prima ballerina. We sat and watched the daily reports like intimate strangers, Rob tense and shivering at my side. Everything else was the same. We talked about the weather and food and work, we ran and played with great intensity, but the trial and all it meant for us hung over our heads like an executioner’s blade.

Rob was fixing breakfast when the morning news anchor broke in to announce the end of the closing arguments. I didn’t know if he’d made French pastries or if he’d griddled up sawdust from my shop vac. It all tasted like ash. With the jury off to deliberate, we left the TV on while I tried to take care of the other household chores. My wolf was too worked up fretting over the verdict to really get much of anything done. I gave up on laundry after I dumped half a box of soap in the wash and had to clean up the resulting foam-over. I was still washing off suds when Rob called me from the living room.

“Sam, it’s starting.”

Dimly under his voice I heard the news reporter announce they had a verdict. I bolted back out to the living room to stand with him, wiping the suds off on the seat of my pants. That scumbag Heuter deserved to be run through for what he’d done. The news people had been predicting a lighter sentence for the last week, on account of the horrors that poor boy had supposedly witnessed. Perpetrated was more like it.

Rob was so tense that he practically vibrated when I took his hand in mine. The news lady standing on the steps of the Boston courthouse paused to listen to her earbud, and then focused on the camera again.

“We’ve just received word from inside that the defendant has been found innocent of all charges.”

I had to brace my knees to keep them from folding under me. Innocent. That rat bastard and his family had killed three werewolves and dozens of half-blood fae, not to mention innocent humans. He’d raped and mutilated that poor little dancer who’d testified against him, the girl who’d been rescued before they could finish the job and do her in. They’d even gone so far as to kidnap and try to kill Charles’ mate Anna, an Omega, rarest of werewolves. And here he just got to walk off scot free. Heuter had just proved humans could kill us with impunity and get away with it legally, all because we were scary. The repercussions for werewolves and fae everywhere were unfathomable. 

“Goddammit,” I swore, my voice shaking with pent up rage and grief. Rob’s hold on my hand would break a human’s bones, he was hanging on so tight. He didn’t make a sound. Rob didn’t have to say anything when I was saying it all and loud enough for the both of us. The air around him crackled with magic and the growing scent of sage and some kind of flower I didn’t know. I might’ve held on to my wolf if he were less upset, but his emotions fed into mine, and I lost a few minutes struggling to keep my beast under control.

When I finally managed to reign in my wolf’s rage and sorrow enough to actually hear the reporters again, the TV was showing that pretty boy defendant, lying bald-faced for the cameras. My lip curled, and it was everything I could do not to put my fist through the screen.

“I don’t wanna hear any more of this bullshit,” I snarled.

I started forward to turn it off, but the dang TV was one of those models that didn’t seem to have buttons on it, and the remote had gone missing while I was doing chores.

“Wait,” Rob ordered, his hand latching on to mine again. His voice sounded like steel and silver, war and bells. I’d lived with Rob long enough to gain something of a sensitivity to fae magic. I stopped to watch. 

The reporters quit asking questions, Heuter stopped talking, even the traffic and crowd sounds faded away until all I could hear were horse hooves and delicate silvery bells. The camera swung off Heuter to the street below the courthouse, which was suddenly full of horses. Black horses with black clad riders, standing perfectly still and silent. The hair rose on the back of my neck. Our Alpha raises and trains horses, so I’ve been around them from time to time. I ain’t never seen a group of the beasts act like that. They’ll flick their tails, move their ears, shake their heads, shift their weight, even snap at each other, but stand still without so much as a muscle quivering? Never.

I cocked my head to the side. “What in…?”

The camera’s mic started to pick up whispers and murmurs from the crowd, and the horses all moved in tandem to form two lines facing each other, and a single rider on a white stallion came cantering up the center. There was no saddle or bridle on the horse, just black chains with silver bells strung through its mane and tail. Its rider wasn’t human, but I recognized him. I’d seen his face often enough on the news over the course of the trial. He was fae, and his law firm represented the prosecution.

He was also the father of the little half-fae dancer whom Les Heuter and his family had cut up and raped. Charles and Anna had rescued the poor girl before the Heuters killed her, but the damage had already been done.

“That’s Beauclaire,” I observed.

“No,” Rob croaked. “Not anymore.” 

“What’s going on, Rob?” I asked, but he only shook his head, eyes fixed on the screen.

The man he’d said was no longer Alistair Beauclaire looked pissed. Instead of his sharp suit, he was dressed in old fashioned looking garments in silver and white. He had a sword in one hand and some kind of flower in the other. His horse stopped right at the foot of the stairs.

“I told them,” Beauclaire said, his voice ringing out through the TV’s speakers, “that they should not give someone as old and powerful as I a daughter to love. That it would end badly. Now we shall all live with the consequences.” The sounds of Lexington faded. I couldn’t hear the new neighbor’s passel of children giggling in the side yard or the quiet cough of cars out on the main drag. I breathed the sun-soaked brick and salt tang air of Boston while the thrum of the satellite vans droned in my ears worse than the old cicada tree by my front porch. The lines of the TV set blurred. I wasn’t sure where I was anymore.

“What kinda consequences?” I growled. Rob shushed me, holding tight as death to my hand. I watched as the white horse rose on his hind legs, not rearing but moving in a precise, slow circle, like those trained show horses I’d seen advertisements for, but graceful as a ballet dancer. No mere animal ever moved like that. Beauclaire wasn’t done yet.

“What was done today was not justice. This man raped and tortured my daughter. When he was finished, he would have killed her. But you all see us as monsters—so frightened of the dark that you cannot see your own monsters among you. Very well. You have made it clear that we and our children are not citizens of this country, that we are separate. And that we will receive a separate justice that has little to do with the lovely lady who holds the balanced scales—and has everything to do with your fear.”

The horse came down to rest on all four feet again. “You have made your choice. And we will all live with the consequences. Most of us. Most of us will live with the consequences.”

The white horse started up the steps towards the cameras and Les Heuter, hooves clicking on the concrete. Beauclaire crumbled the flowering plant in his hand, scattering a trail of leaves far too thick for the small sprig he held. The last of it fell from his grip as the horse stopped in front of the human man who’d defiled the fae’s daughter.

Not a single person in the crowd moved. I could see people beyond Beauclaire’s horse, the whites of their eyes showing, but no one got in his way. There would be werewolves in the crowd. Charles and his wife Anna at the very least, since they’d been there to testify, but not even they interfered. Maybe they couldn’t. I couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away.

“It is not meet that my daughter’s attacker should live,” Beauclaire said. He raised his sword and swung, cleaving that bastard’s head from his shoulders in one smooth swing. He beheaded Les Heuter in front of the television camera—and then spoke into it.

“For two hundred years I have been bound by my oath that I would not use my powers for personal gain, nor for the gain of my people. In return, we would be allowed to come here and live in quiet harmony in a place unbounded by iron.” Tipping the bloodied blade toward the ground, Beauclaire said quietly, “The time of that oath is past, broken by this man and by those who freed him without regard to justice. I reclaim my magic for me and my people. Our day begins anew.”

Rob dropped to one knee beside me, his hand seizing in mine. I tore my attention off the damn scene playing out in front of us by sheer force of will. It was like watching water slide off a stone, seeing Rob shed his glamour. My boyfriend was normally just a little shorter than my handful of inches over six feet, blue eyed, pale skinned, with dark hair that liked to curl. His face reminded me of a cat, an equal mix of vanity and beauty. 

Without glamour, the fae wore Rob’s clothes, but the resemblance ended there. His skin was dark bronze swirled with streaks of bright gold that shifted whenever I tried to look at them, and matched the long, straight hair that spilled down his back. He was taller than me now, taller than any human I’d ever seen, taller than the kids that played basketball at the university. His face was too terrible and beautiful to look at for any real amount of time. He was still Rob, but distilled down to his essence, no longer muted by his glamour’s magic.

I sucked in a breath, and the fae on TV finished his dire pronouncement.

“We, the fae, declare ourselves free of the laws of the United States of America. We do not recognize them. They have no authority over us. From this moment forward we are our own sovereign nation, claiming as our own those lands ceded to us. We will treat with you as one hostile nation treats with another, until such time as it seems us good to do elsewise. I, Alistair Beauclaire, once and again Gwyn ap Lugh, Prince of the Gray Lords, do so determine. All will abide my wishes.”

The stallion raised his front feet and spun, bounding down the stairs and back through the path the other riders had made for him. As the white horse ran, a white mist rose behind him, covering everything for a moment. When it cleared out, the fae were gone. The camera swung back to the steps when Les Heuter’s senator father fell to his knees beside his son’s headless corpse. A confused gabble of voices filled the sudden silence the fae’s departure had left behind for several long moments before the station cut away from the live feed and back to a couple of shaken-looking news anchors behind their fancy glass and steel desk. It was like Beauclaire’s spell had prevented even the news people from doing anything until he’d finished saying his piece.

I ran my free hand over my face and my knees sagged until I knelt next to Rob on the hardwood floor of my living room. Well then. I’d more or less expected the shit to hit the fan with this high profile trial, but _this_ … I let the nervous commentary from the news anchors wash over me like so much noise. They didn’t know what it meant. I scarcely knew what it meant, and I’d lived with one of the fae for over six years.

“Rob, what—”

“I don’t have much time,” he cut me off, his eyes locked with mine. They were green now, like emeralds, but deeper. I could get lost in his eyes. Maybe literally. “They’ve ordered me to the reservation. Iron if I resist.”

“To the res? But—” I blurted, stopping when a sudden surge of desperation and anxiety welled up. I didn’t want to put him in danger but the thought of him gone made my stomach feel like it had dropped off a cliff. “You’re leaving me?”

He growled like a wolf. “Never. No. Leaving, but not leaving you.” 

His assurance helped me settle my wolf’s near panic. Like me, he answered to people higher up his relative food chain. I put my questions aside. Like as not, he couldn’t answer them anyway. “If you gotta go… I understand. What do you need from me?” I asked.

He touched my cheek. His hand was hot, hotter than mine. “Can’t. Against the rules.” His teeth were so white when he grinned. “You know how I feel about rules.” 

“I do,” I agreed, and swallowed against the growing lump in my throat. “I can’t come with you,” I said, making it a statement rather than a question. I owed my loyalty to the pack just as Rob did to his masters. There were some rules neither of us could break.

“Tend the things I leave behind,” he whispered.

“I will,” I promised, cupping his new face with my hand. “I’ll look after your stuff until you can return to reclaim it.”

“All that I hold.” 

His wording was odd, but I nodded. “I promise,” I told him. The hand not touching my face gripped my shoulder. The fae don’t take oaths lightly, whether sworn to a child or a king. Even so, given what I’d just seen on the television, I might have just signed up for a long haul assignment.

Rob squeezed my hand and let out a sigh. “Thank you.” Ice slid down my spine. Rob never let me thank him, or thanked me in return. The fae see thanks as a debt to be repaid. Thanking me put him in my debt.

“You have to go now?” I asked. He jerked his head in a rough nod. I’d never seen him so out of control. Everything he did was graceful, always, even by a werewolf’s standards. I pulled on his hand, tugging him into my arms for a firm hug and a kiss that was demanding even by my measure. Both of us were breathing hard when I let go. “Stay safe,” I ordered him, “I’ll be waiting.”

“You as well,” he demanded.

“I will,” I promised. I felt like I was sending him off to war, and in a sense, I was. He held his own against me, against my wolf. He had to survive a bunch of terrified humans, if it came to that. I didn’t know what I would do without him, but I couldn’t hold him here, either. “Come back to me.”

“As soon as I’m able,” Rob promised. “ _Please_ be safe. There are dangerous times ahead, Sam, for my kind and yours both.” 

Then he caught my shirt front in both hands and pulled me down into one last kiss that took my breath away. I felt magic surge, wolf, fae, and wild. It swept over me in a wave, blinding me to everything else. There was nothing else, just me and Rob and the pure, sweet fire of his magic blending with my wolf. When the time the sparkles cleared from my vision, I was alone. I sagged back against the coffee table, unable to stop the wolf’s howl that tore from my throat and echoed through the house. He was gone, and this time he wouldn’t be coming home.


	2. Adrift

I stayed on my knees in the living room of our home, the real heartache welling up while the newscasters droned on in the background. I didn’t care about the trial or its aftermath anymore. All it meant was the man I loved had been pulled away from me, summoned by powers beyond either of us to fight in a war with ramifications I barely understood. I didn’t even know which side I was supposed to be on, if any. 

Now would have been a really good time to get really stinking drunk. Too bad the werewolf metabolism would cancel out any effects of the liquor before it would do me any good. God, but it hurt. I don’t know how long I stayed that way. It might have been only minutes or hours before I heard Owen’s car pull into my driveway. He banged the door open the same way Rob often had, twisting the knife in my heart.

“Sammy?”

I didn’t move from my spot on the floor. “He’s gone, Owen,” was all I managed before my throat closed up and I couldn’t say anything more. There hadn’t been anything I could have done to stop it, but that didn’t make the pain any less.

Owen crouched in front of me, his head cocked to the side like a worried dog’s. “I saw the news.”

“He had to go,” I gritted out. “Didn’t have a choice. Goddamit.” I hit the coffee table next to me with more force than I should have and shattered the wooden top of it. It didn’t make me feel any better, and I’d just have to fix or replace it later.

“Shh, Sammy. I know. I know.” Owen had a soothing voice, but it didn’t disguise the gentle command he’d given me. He had followed me up the pack ladder, but he couldn’t order me around. It took a major effort to keep from lashing out in response. Hurting though I was, it wasn’t Owen’s fault, and I was still just barely rational enough to control my wolf’s reactions. I struggled with it, curling my hands into fists until the urge to retaliate subsided. If Owen noticed my difficulties, he didn’t give any indication.

“Always knew I might not get to keep him,” I rasped when I could speak again. “Just didn’t expect it to happen so fast.”

Owen nodded solemnly, sitting back on his heels. 

“Didn’t expect it to hurt so damn much, either.” I ground the heels of my hands into my eyes, but the tears came regardless. I’d held it together for that brief, almost-panicked goodbye, but now that it’d had time to sink in, I felt like everything was coming undone at the seams. Everywhere I looked in our home there were reminders of Rob and the life we’d been building together. Owen’s hand settled on my shoulder. I put a hand over his and sucked in a shuddering breath. Touch helped. The scent of pack helped. I didn’t feel quite so lost with him here. Owen wasn’t gay, but he’d been my friend for a long time. 

“There are plenty of empty rooms at Alec’s. Come stay with us for awhile.”

I shook my head. “I don’t feel much like bein’ around the pack right now,” I mumbled. “And I promised Rob I’d look after things for him.”

“You gave an oath to one of the fae?” Owen asked, lifting his head.

“I promised my _boyfriend_ I’d take care of his stuff while he was gone,” I said with a little more sharpness than was kind. I started to get up, and Owen tightened his fingers on my arm.

“His things will keep,” Owen told me gently. “You should let Alec know what’s happened. This merits a visit, not a phone call.”

He had a point. Sooner or later I had to tell the Alpha. I didn’t really think Alec would care either way, but it seemed hurtful to say so to Owen. I’d had enough of pain today. “Okay,” I agreed, rubbing my face. “Okay. We c’n go talk to Alec.” It wouldn’t change the hole in my heart. My love was gone, and I had no idea if or when I’d ever see him again. My melancholy made it hard to want to move.

Owen stood, and I stayed where I was. He frowned at me, then strode deeper into the house. I heard him turn off the TV and move some stuff around, but I couldn’t bring myself to care right then. I stayed where I was, wallowing in my misery while he swept up up the slivers of my coffee table and dealt with the remains of the meal Rob and I hadn’t finished.

He stopped beside me when he was through. “Ready to go?”

I shrugged and let him pull me to my feet, though I’m taller and stronger than him. Owen’s been looking after me since I was Changed. Ranks mattered less between us than the others, so I didn’t protest when he asked, “Do you want me to drive?”

“Sure. That’s fine.” Right then nothing made a difference to me. The usual posturing between ranks seemed pointless.

I let him shepherd me out of the house. Owen had always fussed over me. He always would, no matter where we fell in the pack. I raised my head and sucked the bleak November air into my lungs. The weather matched my gloomy mood.

“It’ll get easier,” Owen murmured. “Come on.”

“All right,” I sighed. Facing Alec wasn’t quite so bad as walking to my own execution, but that was about how I felt at the moment. I closed the door behind me, making sure it was locked in our wake. Everything would keep for now. Rosie had passed on a couple years back, so there was no dog to care for. With Rob gone, there was nothing for me now.


	3. Dominance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen takes Sam to the safety of the pack, but he may have overestimated the pack's tolerance after the day's events. When push comes to shove, blood will be spilled. The only question is which wolf comes out on top - and which wolves walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Owen Thomas' point of view. Following Patricia Briggs' conventions, this chapter is third person instead of first person.

_OWEN_

It took twenty minutes to reach the pack house from Sam’s small craftsman style home in the city, at least when traffic laws were obeyed. Sam hadn’t said a word since they had left his house. He’d slumped into the passenger’s seat and spent the whole drive staring out the window. Sammy was too young, and the pack too volatile for him to understand what was going on, but Owen had seen wolves mourn lost mates before. He knew the signs all too well.

Owen had left Alec’s when he felt Sam’s distress. He didn’t remember the drive out, only the growing worry that Sam’s fae had done something to harm him. The fae had hurt Sammy all right, if not physically. Heartbreak was harmful enough all on its own in werewolves. While Owen was rescuing Sam, the rest of the pack had come home to roost. The long drive to Alec’s palladian manor was filled with cars. None of them, not one, had called or checked on Sam. The whole pack knew what he tied his heartstrings to, but none of them cared enough about their packmate to send a simple text message. The nasty temper Owen’s wolf fed with every fight he threw had fuel enough to burn for years. They were werewolves. Pack was all they had.

Much as Owen wanted to protect Sam from the reality of their condition, there was no time to coddle him. Despite the loss of his mate, Sam hadn’t snapped beyond what could be controlled. That put the odds in his favor. 

“Sammy, we’re here.” The younger werewolf didn’t move. Owen supposed Sam was outgrowing the nickname he’d given him when he was newly Changed. “ _Sam_. Come on.”

Sam sucked in a breath and glanced up, like he hadn’t really noticed they had arrived. “Right,” he said, and climbed out of the car. Owen had taught him how to control his reactions, his emotions, around the pack, but Sam had been through too much of a shock in too short a time. It wouldn’t take much for anyone who cared to look to realize Sam was hurting. 

Guilt, that familiar old friend, sank its talons deep into the very heart of him, stealing Owen’s breath away. It was too dangerous to surround Sam with the pack when tempers were so high, but Owen was too old and too needy to risk abandoning Sam at home and losing the boy to suicide. It wouldn’t be the first time a grieving wolf took his own life rather than live on without his mate.

Maybe if the pack hadn’t all come to Alec’s house to watch the results of the trial in Boston it would have been different. Owen could have brought Sam in with less of an audience to his pain. In his current state, bringing Sam into their midst was akin to dragging a wounded gazelle in front of a pride of hungry lions. At least this gazelle had claws and teeth of his own. Owen hoped he remembered to use them.

Lights blazed from every window of the venerable family pile, streaking the twilit lawn with gold. With the pack in residence, there was no point trying to sneak poor Sam in through the old servants’ door. Owen led him in through the front door, smothering a growl over the noise pouring out of the great room the pack used as a gathering space. Every blasted one of Alec’s televisions was on a different news channel blaring away about the trial and the bloody mess the fae had left for all of them to deal with. It was an all out assault against the heightened senses that came with their condition.

“Damn fairies ruined it for all of us,” Hobie snarled, pacing back and forth in front of the open door. The air stank of his expensive cologne, smothering Owen’s sensitive nose. At least Hobie’s cologne drowned out the usual mix of bullshit and old money he’d been sculpted from. It clung to him with that stubborn veneer of superiority that made Owen want to knock out all of his teeth. “You think the general public will see any difference between us and them? They can go run and hide behind their glamour, but we’re still here, living with _their_ fallout.”

Sam flinched against Owen’s back, though Hobie’s spite was directed at the world at large for a change rather than being aimed at him. Maybe if Sam’s chosen mate had been anything but fae, or a fae lady instead of a lord, the pack might shove their bigotry aside. In this state, with all their bile, being with the pack would only deepen poor Sam’s wounds. Owen grabbed him by the arm and hauled Sam in the opposite direction. There were no televisions in the music room. They’d be safe enough there.

It was too late. The pack fourth blocked the door into the music room, his lip pulled back from his teeth in a snarl that was out of place with his light pink button-down and well pressed khakis. Owen rarely thought of Andrew at all. The man was a decent fighter, dominant, but not as memorable or charismatic as the top three wolves in the Bluegrass Pack. “Some nerve you’ve got, to come crawling back to the pack.”

Owen snorted. “I live here.”

Andrew cuffed him hard enough to make Owen stagger. “Not you.”

To his credit, Sam didn’t cringe from the more dominant wolf, though he kept his eyes down. “I need to talk to the Alpha,” he said.

“Why?” Andrew growled.

Sam had climbed the pack ranks far enough to insulate himself from his loudest critics, but that didn’t make him safe. “It has to do with Rob.”

Andrew’s growl became a full blown snarl. “You dare bring your problems here after what happened in Boston today? You’ve put this pack in peril, tying us to your beloved fae.”

Sam was a big man, but he seldom used his size to full advantage. He loomed large over stocky Andrew, but he looked away from the pack fourth. He was conceding without a fight.

Something dark and angry unfurled in Owen’s belly. Boston wasn’t Sam’s fault. The situation the pack was in had nothing to do with his protege’s spectacularly bad taste in men. “Be quiet, Andrew,” Owen warned, welcoming the way his wolf rose up to feed his temper.

“It’s okay, Owen,” Sam said, twisting a little to look at him. “Andrew ain’t wrong. I just need to see the Alpha so—”

Andrew lunged the second Sam looked away. As the pack fourth, Andrew was well within his rights to discipline either of them. His fist slammed into Owen’s chest with the force of a battering ram, knocking him through the plaster and lathe of the wall. He hit Alec’s wet bar and sent crystal glasses and decanters tumbled to the floor around him in a cloud of glittering, deadly shards.

Through the sudden pain of cracked ribs and blood, Owen was dimly aware of the Silence that enveloped them, the silence of pack magic and the hunt. The hall had filled with wolves as soon as blood was spilled. Every last wolf in the hall fed the rage he had nursed.

Andrew wasn’t done with his tirade yet, either. With Owen out of the way, he pointed a threatening finger in Sam’s face and snarled.

Silence kept his slurs from reaching anyone’s ears, but Owen didn’t need to hear to know what he said. Andrew shoved Sam into the wall, one meaty fist wrapped around the younger wolf’s throat. 

Andrew was fourth in the pack; Owen was tenth. The Marrok’s laws required a wolf to be within three places of his challenger to fight for rank, for power, even to protect a friend broken by the loss of their mate.

Owen never had much respect for the law.

Rage took over. He snatched a broken decanter and swung it at Andrew, opening up a bright red slash down the attacking werewolf’s side. 

Andrew tore himself away from Sam, but it was too late to save him. Owen grabbed the belligerent ass and tossed Andrew through the wall to the music room before the ignoramus could chase his wounded fledgling. The fight would rouse Sam’s wolf to defend him if the pack took Andrew’s side. Owen had other wolves to kill.

The blood dripping from his ribs wouldn’t slow Andrew down for long, but his focus was on Owen now. His eyes had paled to his wolf’s piss yellow. He wasted breath trying to yell despite the pack magic that enforced the silence of their quarrel. Owen didn’t need words when he had fists and teeth. He hammered Andrew’s face until his jaw cracked like the liberty bell the damn Yankees were so proud of. The fury he’d kept stoppered up for all those years flooded out with force enough to break the pack’s spell. The death of the pack’s spell let him feed the wolf with the sound of Andrew’s bones cracking beneath their hands.

Somebody—Collin, his nose told him belatedly—caught ahold of him from behind. Owen slammed the thick part of his skull into the other wolf’s nose and broke away. When he spun, toppling the second with a well placed sweep of his leg, there was blood pouring down Collin’s face to soak his shirt. Owen had no quarrel with the second, but no one was getting between him and Andrew’s face.

“ _Enough_.” Alec’s voice cracked like a whip through the remains of the music room.

Owen froze with his fists balled in the collar of Andrew’s shirt, bound by the Alpha’s command. Andrew hung limp in his grasp with eyes were swelling shut to match his newly broken nose, but Owen could hear his heartbeat. The ass would be fine in time. Hobie, that bully, released Sam’s throat and rabbited. The rest of the pack scattered through the dust and debris.

“What is going on here?” the Alpha demanded.

“S’my fault, sir,” Sam spoke up from the doorway. He leaned on the doorjamb heavily, and there was blood on his face from a cut near his hairline that had already healed. “Andrew came at me and Owen stepped in.”

“ _Owen_?” The pack second pushed to his feet, rage twisting Collin’s dour features into something that resembled Frankenstein’s monster. “Andrew, you attacked Owen?”

Andrew’s face looked like he’d lost a battle with a cheese grater. Owen growled at him when he tried to speak.

“Came at me first,” Andrew growled back, his words slurred by the damage Owen left behind. He gestured at Sam with bloodied fingers. “Defend’n’ th’ fae-lovin—”

The Alec’s snarl cut him off before he could finish whatever he’d been about to call Sam. “I said enough. Owen, drop him.”

Owen hackled, but released his hold on Andrew’s collar. The other wolf slumped to the floor, coughing. It would be a few more minutes at least before Andrew recovered himself enough to be a problem. Collin swiped at his bloodstained shirt in disgust and turned to Sam, who was staring determinedly at the floor.

“Th’ hell’s gotten into y’all?” the pack second demanded, wiping blood off his face with a shirtsleeve. His nose sat at a slightly crooked angle that would need to be corrected before it healed wrong, though the bleeding had stopped. Collin’s rage bled through the pack bonds. “I don’t care who started it. I oughta tan all your hides for this stunt. Owen’s three ranks _below_ you, Sam. What were you thinking? What were _any_ of you thinking?”

Sam was one of the largest wolves in the pack, but Collin’s words made him shrink in on himself. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Collin ignored the apology and turned his snarl on Owen. “And _you_. What in God’s name were you trying to do, taking on a wolf six ranks your senior? Fighting _me_? Do you really have a death wish, Owen?”

“Do you?” Owen asked silkily. Collin was tough, but so was he.

The Alpha cuffed him. “Enough fighting.”

“Sam lost his mate today,” Owen snarled at his old friend. “I’m through watching members of this pack torture themselves and others on account of lost mates!”

Alec was as easygoing as any monstrous, control obsessed beast could be. As soon as the barb left Owen’s lips, all of the Alpha’s charm vanished into the ether. He released his control and flooded the entry hall with the power and strength that let him lead their broken pack. Owen staggered. The others dropped where they stood.

“Be careful, old man,” Alec said in a gentle voice that didn’t match the golden blaze of his eyes.

He should have bared his throat, should have knelt when Collin did, but Owen was past caring. Doing the wise thing, the thing that promised survival in the end, always ended in misery. “Sam is _mine_. He’s been mine since his Change. I will not stand aside while an imbecile tortures him with the loss of his mate!” 

Alec growled low in his throat. Their eyes met for a moment before Owen tipped his head to the side, submitting to his Alpha’s rage.

“I understand protecting those who belong to you,” Alec said, and Owen shuddered. He hadn’t heard his Alpha utter that particular phrase in a long, long time. The blood drying on his skin didn’t feel any different now than it had in that long ago prison, awaiting the hangman’s noose.

“That’s not his place.”

Owen lifted his head and looked Collin in the eye. The pack second hackled and growled at him, pushing up off the floor. The Alpha came between them before their staring contest could inspire more violence.

“Enough,” he repeated. “Enough, Owen. No one needs to die today. You’ve proved your point.”

“Have I?” Owen couldn’t get the snarl out of his voice. “Nothing changes if I submit to him. I won’t accept that.” Backing down would leave the pack free to torment Sam. Not every wolf who hated the boy had died after failing to murder him. Hobie was Andrew’s friend. Between them, Sam would be dead inside a week.

Alec gave him a look that was somewhere between thoughtful and calculating. “Then take Andrew’s rank. Is that change enough for you?”

“That’s not a proper dominance challenge,” Collin growled. “Owen is tenth. There are too many ranks between him and Andrew.”

Owen lunged at the second. Alec stopped him with a firm hand. “I need Collin,” Alec said, his voice soft. Owen understood his meaning all too well. Alec wasn’t entirely stable. The pack would handle the change in his status better if Owen didn’t beat Collin bloody and take his rank, too. Lexington was not a safe place to be a werewolf. Too much disruption might get the whole pack killed.

He managed a nod, and his Alpha turned back to Collin. “It stands because I say it stands. Owen bested Andrew. He takes fourth rank in the pack. Anyone who wishes to dispute it can take it up with me.”

The pack second met the Alpha’s gaze for a long moment, his mouth pressed into a hard, unhappy line. Collin nodded after a small eternity, dropping his eyes from Alec’s.

“Owen was my second for seven decades,” the Alpha added gently. “He’ll be a fine fourth.”

That shut the rabble up. Alec made Owen turn from the others to look at him. It was too hard to drop his eyes and pretend as he once had that he was too submissive to be a bother.

“Is this really what you want?” Alec growled, his hand hard on Owen’s shoulder. They both knew what Owen really craved. Sooner or later, it would destroy them. Owen veiled his eyes at the last second, acknowledging the Alpha he loved and despised.

“Fourth,” Owen said. “Yes.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Owen,” Sam said, his voice quiet. “Not for me.”

“I did it for me,” he retorted, “but you weren’t going to defend yourself, and I’ve invested too much time in you to allow you to commit suicide by asshole.” That earned him another growl from Andrew, but Alec waved him silent. Owen looked back at his Alpha. “We need to talk.”

“Next time you want to talk to me, maybe do it without shoving someone through my walls,” Alec said, his drawl honeyed and thick with sarcasm. “There are less destructive ways to get my attention. Wrapping one of my cars around a tree, for example.”

“I’ll do that,” Owen snapped. Alec swept the hall with a glance, and most of the busybodies peering through what used to be walls found other places to be. Only Sam and Collin stayed behind.

Without a word, they decamped to the mostly intact music room. Alec closed the door with more control than Owen possessed. “Andrew will be out for your blood.” 

“Good.” 

Sam, who had shuffled into the room and taken one of the chairs not far from the door, looked up at him in surprise. Owen had never let the boy see this side of him before.

“Owen,” Alec warned him. Owen was growling. It was harder than it should have been to silence the beast. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Ask Sam.” It was harder than it should have been to turn his back on Collin and walk over to the window. 

There was silence for several long moments, and then Sam said, “Rob’s gone,” with the sort of brutal self-honesty that always put him in harm’s way. He recounted the sordid affair with the miserable finality of a confessing prisoner who was only waiting for the lash to fall when he hadn’t done anything to deserve it. Owen growled again, and they all fell silent.

“Gone,” Alec said. “To the reservation. The Marrok should be told.” 

“He said they threatened to use iron on him if he resisted,” Sam mumbled. “He didn’t want to go. Didn’t have a choice.”

“Collin, call Bran when we’re through.” Alec sounded thoughtful more than angry. 

“Why would the Marrok care about Sam’s fae mate?” Collin asked. Owen wished him luck reaching their lord and master. Most of the pack would be tying up the line after what he'd done to Andrew. 

“All of our local fae are gone. Now we know where, if not why,” the Alpha pointed out. “He should know.”

“Yes, sir,” Collin agreed, though he didn’t sound happy about it. Normal enough for Collin. Alec turned back to Sam.

“Sam, I want you here with us for the next few days at least. The loss of a mate is an awful shock, and we need to make certain you’ll be all right. We do the same for all our pack.” 

“Sir?” Sam sounded bewildered.

“He is your mate, isn't he?” Alec prodded. 

“I… Yes,” Sam agreed. “I just… I didn’t think anybody’d count it the way y’all do other wolves with mates. Kentucky don’t allow gay marriage, so it ain’t as if we can legally tie the knot.”

“The distinction is ridiculous. I’ve wasted enough years allowing the majority their stupidity.” Owen could hear the cold smile in his Alpha’s words. “This pack is not a democracy.” 

“Yes, sir,” Sam said, sounding uncertain. “I do appreciate it, sir.” He sighed. 

“Nothing good in life is ever easy.” Owen stayed where he was, but he could see Alec sling his arm over Sam’s shoulder in the reflection off the window. “You’ll pull through just fine.” 

“I’ll try,” Sam murmured. He wasn’t the first wolf in the pack to lose a mate, and he wouldn’t be the last. Alec hugged him. Sam didn’t fight, though he flinched when most of the pack tried to touch him. He’d had more pain than comfort from most of them in the past, and learned behaviors were hard to kick. Werewolves touched more than human men did. The wolf required it with no regard for the trauma of attempted murder gone by.

Alec sounded sure and steady when he pulled away. “You’ll succeed.” Sam’s mate wasn’t dead, just locked away with the rest of the fae in their reservations.

“He left me his things to look after. Alec, I don’t know what to do without him,” Sam said sounding lost.

“He’s vanished for indeterminate periods of time before,” Owen muttered. “You’ll be fine.”

“I-I guess.”

Alec gave him one more hard hug, and then let go. “Go with Collin in case the Marrok has questions. We can make a plan for the rest after you’re done.” 

“Yes, sir,” Sam said. He climbed out of his chair, and trailed after the pack second when Collin stepped out of the room. That left just Owen and Alec.

“As for you,” Alec growled as soon as the door swung shut. 

Owen sneered at him. “You’re the one who kept pushing me to reclaim my old place. I did exactly what you wanted. Are you going to punish me for it?” Alec didn’t move, but the blue drained right out of his eyes in favor of his wolf’s gold. “It’s what he would have done. You’ve done nothing but act like him since Temperance died. Why stop now?” 

Alec had him on the floor before Owen knew the Alpha had moved. He couldn’t take Alec now or in the future. Owen was fast and ruthless, but he was no Alpha.

“I am not our father,” Alec snarled in Owen’s ear. “If you want to help Sam with his problems, you best start dealing with your own.” 

He shoved to his feet and stepped away. Owen stayed where Alec had put him, breathing in the musty scent of old wool still buried in the carpet. He was out of control.

“I’m sorry,” Owen told the rug. 

Alec snorted. “I think we’re past lying to each other by now.”

Owen rolled over enough to sit up. Alec had taken his place by the window. “I’m not sorry, then. All the same, you didn’t deserve it this time.”

“All right.” Alec took Owen’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Can you keep it together enough to help him? A gay werewolf with a fae for a mate, on top of Boston...there aren’t many others I can trust with him.” 

Poor Sam. It was the least Owen owed him. He took another deep breath, reaching for his tattered control. “Yes.” 

“Good.” Alec let Owen meet his eyes that time. His were blue again, full of the pain and worry Owen had dumped in his doorstep. “They’ll be gunning for both of you after this. Are you certain you’re up for it?” 

The blood and bruises were already fading. It was Owen’s soul that was battered. His body hadn’t felt so alive in decades. “We’ll find out together.” The pack he could handle. The trauma of Sam’s lost mate would be child’s play in comparison.


	4. Unsettled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Left reeling after the fight, Sam must decide on his next move while finding a new balance within the upset pack.

The Marrok was way more understanding about the whole situation than I had expected. Might just have been the man had a lot on his plate already right then, what with the fae and all. He thanked Collin for passing the information along, expressed his sympathies to me for the loss of my mate, and got off the phone again real quick.

The rest of the evening was mostly a blur for me, thanks in part to my own numbness at losing Rob, but also Owen’s spectacular catapult up the ranks to fourth. I hadn’t intended to stick around, but I ended up staying at Alec’s anyway. I think he and Owen just wanted to keep a close eye on me to make sure I didn’t try and drown myself in a bathtub or something. 

Don’t get me wrong, losing Rob hurt like hell, but I wasn’t going to off myself over the loss. Especially not given my promise to look out for the stuff he’d left behind. Rob was particular about his cheeses and how they were supposed to be cared for. I’d built him his creamery in the garage not long after he moved into my house, and the old oak shelves I’d put up were chock full of rounds of maturing cheese he’d been carefully tending for years. They’d be okay for a few days, but sooner or later I was gonna have to go check on things or risk breaking my promise to my boyfriend by not properly caring for his stuff.

I hoped cooler heads would prevail. The whole pack had been on edge, snapping and snarling more than we had during the last major shakeup. Alec had sent a lot of them home after Owen’s fight with Andrew. I was still having a hard time wrapping my head around everything that had happened in such a short amount of time. The rest of the country was going bonkers about Beauclaire’s show after the trial and the fae retreating to their reservations, but the talking heads on the television were all just going in speculative circles. Nobody knew what was going on, or what might come next. We had orders from the Marrok to keep our heads down and wait for the time being, which was fine by me.

Collin stayed, though he had a little brick house of his own over near Menifee Avenue. He made a show of it, too, announcing his intent to stay put to everyone who would listen. I think he wanted Owen to know, but my old friend ignored him. I wasn’t sure what to make of everything Owen had said and done, so I ignored them both. At least Jackie lived at the pack house, or I wouldn’t have had anybody to sit and be miserable with.

As I understood it, women survived the Change to werewolf less often than men, and there were fewer female werewolves as a result. The Bluegrass Pack only had few compared to the twenty or so males that made up the majority. Jackie was one of our newest wolves, only with the pack a couple of years. She spent a lot of time with me and Rob, Owen too. Her company was welcome, but the circumstances were trying. Owen usually cooked for whatever folk were at Alec’s when mealtime came around. Tonight, it was just me and Jackie in the cavernous old kitchen that must’ve held a staff of twenty back when it was new.

I ain’t in Owen or Rob’s league when it comes to cooking, but I’d spent enough years with my boyfriend to pick up a thing or two. With all the stress and high tempers, we needed food in quantity more than a gourmet meal. Spaghetti and meatballs was pretty hard to mess up, even for me.

“You doin’ all right, sugar?” Jackie asked while I splashed red wine into the tomato sauce. Rob would’ve been proud of me for remembering that little detail. The salad she was assembling had gotten big enough it was threatening to escape from its bowl.

“I’m… I dunno, Miss Jackie,” I sighed. “Ain’t at my best today, that’s for certain.”

“Oh, I can imagine. I saw the front hall. I don’t think it’s anybody’s best day.” She dumped a loaf’s worth of croutons into the salad. Most of them bounced out to the floor, her hands were shaking so bad. The mess was gone before I could blink. Alec bred St. Bernards, and they liked croutons as well as most table scraps. “Has he really gone?”

“Yeah.” I stared into the big sauce pot without really seeing its contents. “After what happened in Boston, sounds like the big guns in faerie called everybody in and didn’t give ’em any choice in the matter.”

“I’d vote for a rescue except for the reservations disappearing. Those folks on television said one vanished into a briar patch.”

“And the one up in Washington state’s just plain gone,” I agreed. “I wouldn’t know where to start lookin’, and somehow I think it’d make more trouble for Rob if I went after him.”

“It’s an awful good thing that you don’t need to look, if that’s the case.”

I blinked and glanced up from the spaghetti sauce. “I don’t?”

Jackie shook her head. “You ever met a briar that could hold that Rob of yours? I swear that man could sweet talk the thorns right off a rose and leave it wonderin’ who could’ve got so close to steal its petals.”

My mouth twitched into a faint smile at her imagery. “Yeah, there is that. I ain’t never seen him so upset, though. He dropped his glamour right in front of me. He’s never done that before. I don’t think it’s gonna be so easy for him to just slip away.”

“Things worth doin’ ain’t never easy, that’s what my mama always said.” Jackie plunked the salad on the big prep table by the door. The pack house was one of those ancient affairs that kept folks like me in business. The kitchen boasted a fireplace big enough to roast a whole deer, but it meant doing all the hard work here in the back on our own and carting the results out to the dining room. I could almost hear Rob complaining about the need for an open concept floor plan. “Speakin’ of rescues, you ought to know Hobie and Andrew had their heads together the whole day long. Whatever it was they were hopin’ for before the fight, they’re in cahoots.”

“Wonder what they’re up to this time,” I murmured, checking to see if the water in the pasta pot had hit a rolling boil yet. The big pan of fist-sized meatballs was about ready to come out of the oven and go into the sauce. I’d just about timed everything right. I dumped a couple pounds of pasta into the salted water and looked over at Jackie again. “Right now I’m more worried about Owen than those two,” I admitted.

The stove was hot, but Jackie shivered all the same. “You ain’t alone in that. I saw him when he was goin’ after Andrew. The look on his face...” 

“I’ve known Owen for almost twenty years now,” I told her, my voice hushed. “I ain’t never seen him lose it like that.”

She rubbed her arms. “When I got to know Owen, I thought – here’s somebody who ain’t never lost it. Maybe it’s possible to live normal even if you are a werewolf. And then he lost it, too.” Jackie sounded like her heart was breaking. “He lost it worse’n most folk do when they snap and let the wolf out too far.”

“We’re all capable of losin’ it, darlin’,” I said with a sigh. “Though Owen’s the last one I’d expect to go off like that. He’s looked after me since I was Changed, even after I passed him in ranks when I joined the pack.”

“I called Evelyn and told her what was goin’ on, and you know what she said? She told me she’s been expectin’ it! _Expectin_ ’ it, Sam! That word belongs in baby announcements, you hear me? Not fights where the gentlest man you ever did know breaks a fellow’s jaw and the better half of two walls!” She slammed the big kettle I’d put on to boil and I steadied it before hot water could slosh all over the stove. “All y’all think this will lead to anythin’ but more fightin’, then y’all are wrong, wrong, wrong.”

“No doubt about it, Miss Jackie,” I agreed. “I think at least half the pack called the Marrok to gripe about it this afternoon. There’s bound to be fights after this big a shakeup.” I didn’t want to fight anybody. I wanted to go back to my home and I wanted my boyfriend, but that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“Y’all gonna start fightin’ at the table?”

I thought about it. “Probably not,” I allowed. “I ain’t gonna start nothin’, and Alec’ll be there to ride herd. Might be different if more of the pack was still here, but not with the handful of us.”

“I’m awful glad to hear it. Evelyn’s coming, but I dunno that the two of us are enough to tip the scales.” Jackie shook her head and set her short hair to swinging. “I don’t care to find out if I can help it.” 

“Me either, Miss Jackie.” I nudged the St. Bernards out of the way so I could open the oven and pull out the tray of baked meatballs. Those went into the sauce, and the lid went back on the pot to keep the splatters down. The dogs gave me big sad eyes for not sharing the meatballs with them. “How’s that pasta comin’ along? Food’ll help keep cooler heads.”

Jackie dipped a wooden spoon into the bubbling water and deftly fished out a noodle to test its firmness. “Nearly there.”

“Good. Sauce is about ready to go, too.” If it was just me and Rob, I didn’t bother with fancy serving dishes, but the Alpha’s house was a lot older and nicer than mine. I turned off the burner, pulled a bowl out of the cupboard that would be big enough to hold a few gallons of sauce and meatballs and carefully transferred the contents of my pot to the new vessel. A sharp warning kept the dogs behaving while I transferred it to the big prep table next to Jackie’s salad.

We’d just finished assembling the last of the food when Evelyn blew in from work. Her sharp eyes took us both in. “No bruises. No permanent harm from fighting, then?” 

“No, ma’am,” I said. “Just some walls that’ll need patchin’ up later.”

“I heard Owen’s ribs go, but I missed the rest of the fightin’. The way I figured things were headin’, I needed somewhere else to be,” Jackie said.

Evelyn squeezed her shoulder. “Leave Owen to me. Food will help sort out their bad tempers.” 

“Figured it might,” I agreed, and went to drain the pasta. “The meal’s just about ready. Miss Jackie, if you wanna grab a loaf or two from the pantry, that oughta finish things out.”

“Yessir. ” 

The pasta went into its own bowl with a squirt of olive oil and a couple tosses to keep the noodles from turning into a big gluey clump. That finished, I started carrying serving bowls to the dining room. I could’ve managed more than one at a time, but Alec’s dogs were incorrigible beggars, and had a bad habit of butting against legs when they wanted treats. I’m a big guy, but a St. Bernard is big enough to knock me off balance if I’m not careful.

Evelyn and Jackie brought the rest of the food in. For some reason the dogs never bothered the women as much as they begged from me. I guess they know a sucker when they see one. Jackie had already set the table while I’d been working on the meatballs in the kitchen, so it mostly just remained to place the serving bowls and dig in. Collin prowled the room while we set things up. His nose wasn’t crooked anymore, and most of the swelling had already gone down.

His demeanor changed when Owen walked in. Collin got that pinched look around his eyes that he only seemed to have when the upper ranks got riled up. I’d never seen him look that way at Owen before, though. I don’t think it’d ever occurred to Collin or anyone else that Owen might threaten his position, and that knowledge wasn’t sitting too well.

“Soup’s on,” I said mildly, hoping to break the tension. “Nothin’ fancy, but Miss Jackie and I threw dinner together.”

Collin glowered at us, and poor Jackie ducked into the nearest chair with her head bowed. I didn’t like seeing the girl cower, but I wasn’t about to challenge the pack second over it. Since Alec had sent most everybody else away, I was the lowest ranked wolf present, excepting the ladies. I swallowed a sigh and followed Jackie’s example.

“Alec’s on the phone with the Marrok. He said to start without him,” Owen said. 

“You don’t speak for the Alpha,” Collin growled. I remembered Jackie’s prediction about fights at dinner, and hoped she was wrong. None of us could overrule Collin, but Owen had certainly been ready to light into him earlier in the day.

Owen tipped his head ever so slightly in submission. “I meant no harm. I was only trying to spare you the need to interrupt our lord and master.” 

Collin let out a huff, but his stance relaxed a little. “Fair enough,” he grumped, moving toward a seat near the head of the table. 

I wasn’t sure what to make of Owen anymore, but he took the seat next to mine as though nothing had changed. I was finding it harder to ignore the fight, even if my wolf was more accepting of Owen’s jump in ranks than Collin’s was.

Evelyn sat down across from us and began passing out food. I’d eaten dinner at the Alpha’s house any number of times over the years, and I always found the rituals they observed to be a little on the strange side. They still used a big formal dining room that could have seated the whole pack. Folk had to ask to be excused if the Alpha was eating with us and use proper table manners, but Alec never made anybody pray before they ate or hold a polite conversation while they demolished the food.

“Did y’all stop teaching to watch the verdict, after the fae – after they did what they did?” Jackie asked.

“No. The children will get enough of that at home.” Evelyn speared a meatball with vicious efficiency, putting it on Collin’s plate. “I confiscated their phones to keep them from interrupting class with the news. Please pass this to Collin, dear.”

Jackie passed the plate along. When the next one went to me instead of Owen, though, he cleared his throat.

“I outrank Sam, now. I eat first.”

The steely look in her eyes was enough to make me squirm like I was one of her students, even though I was well out of high school. “I seem to recall sitting at this very table a few years ago while someone with very red hair pontificated on the necessity of teaching werewolves proper manners. It was a very inspiring speech. Those who break other people’s noses because they are in a bad mood can serve their own dinners.”

Near the head of the table, Collin made a noise that might have been a snort, or a smothered laugh. It was hard to tell with the pack second. I still wasn’t sure Collin had a sense of humor at all.

I thought Owen was going to erupt again. His hands were curled into fists at the edge of the table. “You’re right,” he growled. “I shouldn’t have broken Collin’s nose.”

One slim blond brow rose on Evelyn’s face.

Owen’s voice dropped a full octave. “...and I’m sorry I did it.”

She smiled and passed him my plate. I didn’t mind getting served a little later. Jackie and I had done a bang up job, and the food was hot and filling, which was the most important part. The food tasted like ash thanks to the anger radiating off of Owen, but at least we wouldn’t starve.

Dinners with Rob were lively affairs. He liked to talk, or at least liked the sound of his own voice. Tonight, the pack was silent. The quiet was more unnerving than Owen’s temper. Every werewolf had a temper, but I’d never known the pack to be so closemouthed. Maybe it would have been different with Alec there, but our Alpha was still on the phone with the Marrok.

“Did you damage your vocal chords while you were fighting Andrew?” Evelyn murmured.

Owen’s head shot up. “What?”

“I have never known you to be so quiet.”

“I’m sorry, was I supposed to be the in-flight entertainment?” he half-growled.

“Quiet _and_ touchy. That’s new.”

He turned his scowl on me. “I didn’t ask about your work before I brought you here. Do you have any clients to postpone?”

I chewed my mouthful and swallowed while I tried to focus my brain on the work I needed to do. The verdict had come out on a Friday, and Rob and I had both taken the day off to watch the results air, so at least I had the weekend in front of me. “Next job’s supposed to start Monday,” I told him.

“Can you put your clients off?”

“I guess. Might lose out on a couple contracts if I delay too long, but I know a few contractors I can call in if I need to.” I rubbed my face. With all that had happened, there hadn’t been much time to think about work. 

“Good. You need a few weeks before you go back to work.”

“Jackie told me what happened. I am so sorry, Sam,” Evelyn murmured. “If there is anything you want or need, just ask.”

I rubbed my face. “I… Thank you, ma’am. Honestly, it don’t even feel real yet. Like if I just headed home he’d still be there waitin’ for me.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. It helped a little, took some of the ache from my heart.

“I know what it is like to lose someone. Collin, too. If you need to talk, we’re here.”

Truthfully, I didn’t think most of the pack wanted to hear about me and Rob, and Collin wasn’t the sort to invite soul-searching conversations, but it seemed unkind to point it out. “I do appreciate it, ma’am,” I said.

“Good, now eat your pasta.”

I paused to glance at her. “All due respect, ma’am,” I said, my tone mild. “I know you’re a teacher’n all, but I’m a werewolf, not a kindergartener.”

“There is very little difference between the two, most days,” Evelyn said with a meaningful look in Owen’s general direction. He ignored us both. “When you two are done eating, I will help you with the dishes since you cooked.”

“That’s very kind of you, ma’am.” The least dominant wolves generally did the cooking and cleaning when any of the pack were gathered. Usually if Owen was involved, I pitched in, too, but I no longer really knew where things stood between us now, especially since he’d made a point of enforcing his new status. I appreciated the chance to find my footing again.

I retreated with an armful of dishes as soon as Collin gave permission. Werewolves fought all the time. I just couldn’t wrap my head around losing Rob and seeing Owen vault up the pack at the same time. The higher you climbed up the ranks, the better your chances of getting called out and killed by somebody with something to prove. I’d already lost my boyfriend. I didn’t want to lose my friend, too.

Evelyn turned the sink on and started on the dishes. I grabbed a drying cloth automatically. “Would you mind filling me in on what happened?” she asked, her voice barely louder than the running water. Nobody outside the room would hear. “Jackie didn’t see the whole thing, and I would like to know about the fight.”

“I can try, ma’am. It’s a little bit of a blur in places. I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention when Andrew first came at us, but I expected him to go for me, first, not Owen.”

“I didn’t see anything until Owen came through the wall,” Jackie said in a low voice. 

“Andrew did that,” I confirmed. “He was dressin’ me down over…over Rob, and Owen told him to shut up, so Andrew threw him through the wall. I thought he was gonna kick my ass—pardon my language, ladies—but Owen came right back, cut Andrew ’cross the ribs with a big hunk of busted glass, tossed me away from him, and threw _him_ through the other wall.” I paused in drying dishes to glance up at the ceiling. “At least fixin’ the damage’ll keep me busy for awhile.”

“What happened after that?” Evelyn asked, handing me another plate to dry.

I swallowed. “Owen beat Andrew senseless. Collin waded in to try and separate them, and got his nose broke, and knocked on his butt, and then Alec got everybody to knock it off and demanded to know what was goin’ on and…” I stopped, remembering what Owen had said after that.

“And?” Evelyn prompted.

“Well, it was kinda weird,” I admitted uneasily. “Owen told Alec I was his, that I’d been his since I was Changed, and he wouldn’t stand by and let the others hurt me cuz I’d lost my mate. Alec said he understood protecting the people that belong to you. I belong to Owen? Ain’t quite sure what to make of that. I mean, he taught me the ropes when I ended up a wolf and he looked out for me when I wasn’t pack and all, but I always thought it was more outta obligation, or maybe friendship later on. It ain’t as if he swings my way. Wearin’ dresses don’t make a man gay, after all.”

“No, Owen is definitely not gay.” The smile on Evelyn’s face was a little too knowing for my comfort. The heat radiating off my face might make the dishes dry faster, but it didn’t make me any more comfortable. “I could guess at what he meant by claiming you, but it would only be a guess.”

“I’m all ears,” I said, stacking the dry dishes on the counter so Jackie could put them away.

Evelyn turned off the water. “I presume he was asserting his dominance so that Andrew would see you are under his protection.”

“You assume too much,” Owen growled from the door. I hadn’t heard him approach over the sound of the water. Evelyn went still beside me.

“Owen?” He was still so damn angry. “Then why?” I asked. It’d been bothering me since I’d had a moment to give it any thought, but I hadn’t been comfortable broaching the subject at dinner.

“Because I’m the damn fool that got you into this mess.”

“How do you figure that? You were right about my needin’ to talk to Alec about Rob bein’ gone. It’s not like you could’ve predicted Andrew rippin’ into me the moment we got here.”

“I should have brought you to the Alpha directly.” His voice dropped an octave. “I shouldn’t have hired a human boy to remodel my damn store.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” I asked. “That’s ancient history, Owen. It’s not like you set up the wolf that Changed me to come after me. That was on him, not you.” 

I’d never really known why Owen had picked my business to remodel his hat shop, back when I’d been human, but I didn’t blame him for what’d happened to me. I’d been doing custom woodwork and construction for about ten years at that point, but I hadn’t lived in Lexington and his job’d been a little further from home than most of my contracts at the time. I figured later he’d just been amused that I shared a surname with his Alpha, though if Alec and I were related I had no idea how. 

“None of that’s your fault.” I finished. “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

A strangled howl tore from his throat. Owen was faster than any of us. He spun, slamming his fist into the fireplace. If he’d gone for me instead, I wouldn’t be getting back up. We stood stock still while blood dripped from his fist onto the shattered bricks. Jackie and I exchanged white-eyed glances.

“If you’re done assaulting the fireplace, we should see if Alec is off the phone,” Evelyn said into the growing silence. “He must be hungry by now, and someone needs to bandage your hand.”

Owen snarled. “My hand is fine.”

“I heard your bones go. I would prefer you go into your next fight with properly set knuckles.” Evelyn wiped her hands off on a dish towel. “I expect you to take me out for a proper steak dinner next time. No one else tells me what happens when a fight takes place.”

He went so still that I couldn’t hear Owen breathing anymore. Evelyn gave him her back. “Jackie, dear, would you help Sam finish with the dishes? I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

“Very good. Sam.” Evelyn nodded to me and swept past, hooking her arm through Owen’s on the way out. I waited until I couldn’t hear their footfalls on the old wooden floorboards to get a wet towel and wipe up the blood. 

There was a time that cleaning up blood would’ve bothered me a lot more. That it didn’t phase me should’ve been upsetting, but I was more concerned for my friend. That it was Owen’s blood was pretty damn disturbing. Close to two decades, and he’d never lost his temper like that in my presence, much less twice in one day. Left me feeling pretty spooked.

Jackie turned the water back on in the sink, and I saw her shiver despite the kitchen’s warmth. I put the towel away to be laundered so the blood scent wouldn’t mess with our wolves before I went back to the sink. 

“Well,” I murmured as I dried clean dishes to put away, “that was new.”

“I do believe I’m through having new experiences now, if all y’all care to stop sharing the ones y’all are goin’ through,” she said fervently.

“I’d like that very much, Miss Jackie,” I said. As werewolves went, I was still pretty young, but I felt every one of my fifty-odd years right then. “Maybe a good night’s sleep’ll help settle things down.” 

I put the rest of the dishes away, grimacing to myself. Whatever was wrong with Owen had taken a hell of a lot more than a day to build up, and the chances of it dissipating in a single night were slim to none, but I didn’t want to say so to Jackie. The poor girl didn’t need anything more to trouble her. I just hoped things would be calmer tomorrow. A lot calmer. The last thing I needed was more folk to worry about.


	5. Challenge Given

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam faces his first full day without Rob, one with new challenges thrown his way.

Breakfast was usually Owen’s meal, but he was fixing the broken fireplace. I said hello, but he ignored me and Jackie when we started making food. If he wanted to be a grouch, that was up to him. I let him be and just concentrated on breakfast. I could hear the news from the TV in the great room and the voices of the pack. Alec’s ban must have expired, because I heard Andrew and Hobie among the others. The volume was loud enough for werewolf ears to pick up what was going on even rooms away, but I tried not to listen. It just made me fret about Rob.

I’d had years of being spoiled by Rob’s cooking, but I’m no slouch, either. I was used to being recruited to help with things when the pack was involved. So I was making sure the bacon didn’t burn while Jackie made enough flapjacks to feed a couple construction crews. I wasn’t paying a whole lot of attention to who wandered through the kitchen looking for food, so I didn’t see who did it when a dish shattered on the tile floor behind me.

“Oops,” a familiar voice snickered nastily. I turned to face the current thorn in my side.

Hobie stood in the doorway with a broken platter at his feet where he’d deliberately dropped it. One of his slick looking shoes ground bits of broken ceramic and flapjacks into the tile floor. “Maybe you should come clean this up, girl,” he told Jackie in an oily purr. I saw her expression twist into one of revulsion before she schooled her face blank.

My eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Hobie,” I rumbled. “And you stay away from Miss Jackie.” The bacon mattered less than keeping that one away from Jackie. There was a time when I’d had to answer to him, but that hadn’t been for a long while now.

“What do I want?” Hobie sneered. “I want to see this pack restored to rights. I refuse to bow and scrape in front of a poseur who stole another wolf’s rank by the Alpha’s grace.” I saw Owen straighten from the fireplace, but Hobie’s mouth kept moving, so Owen must have found a lid to put on his temper overnight. “To say nothing of you. You’re just a sorry excuse of a man who won’t protect those beneath him as required by the Marrok’s law. For God’s sake, you let the tenth fight your battles. When he dies, it will be on you.”

It was awful ironic of him to think I wouldn’t defend wolves under me, when I’d just warned him off coming near Jackie, but Hobie’s logic only made sense to him.

“You found a champion to fight Owen for you, then, honey?” Jackie asked, her voice sweet as molasses. “Everybody knows y’all got your tailbone handed over when Sam challenged you.”

Hobie snarled at her. “I’m man enough to fight my own battles.”

Jackie smiled like a shark. Sometimes it was easy to forget that girl had teeth. “Y’all forget I have to see you naked every moon. We all know you ain’t man enough for anything.”

Hobie lunged to slap her, but Jackie was fast. Her hand shot out like the blade of a knife, smacking right into the big nerve cluster in Hobie’s thigh. Hobie stumbled, but I could taste her blood in the air. His strike had connected, but Jackie had jumped over the counter.

Owen and I both reacted, but I was closer. I caught Hobie by the collar of his fancy shirt and tossed him halfway back across the kitchen before he could come at Jackie again.

She licked away the already healing trickle from her split lip and stared across at him defiantly. “Guess you do your own slappin’, anyway.”

“Challenge me if you want, but you leave her be,” I growled at Hobie. “I don’t like bullies, and I ain’t never liked you. It’ll be a pleasure to kick your ass again.”

Yesterday I’d been reeling from the blow of losing Rob to the fae, but a night’s sleep had helped me get my head straightened out. Owen was right about one thing, no suicide by asshole. That wouldn’t help me or anyone else. It still hurt, but I couldn’t afford to let it rule my life, or there’d be no end of challenges from Hobie and others like him, determined to kick me while I was down.

“Fine, then,” Hobie growled. “Meet me in the barn an hour from now, and I’ll put you back down where you belong.”

“You’re welcome to try it,” I growled back. “You’ll get no further than you did last time. Accepted. I’ll be there.”

“Done!” he crowed, bloodlust in his eyes.

“If all y’all are finished settin’ up challenges, you can leave the kitchen,” Jackie said. “We’re cookin’ for the pack here, Hobie, and all you’re gonna do standin’ around here is spoil the food and everybody’s appetites.”

He took a step toward her, and I put myself firmly between them. “Go,” I ordered him.

“You don’t tell me what to do!” he shot back.

“Unless you manage to beat me, I damn well do,” I replied, and let my wolf’s rumble come through the order I gave him. “ _Get out_.”

Hobie snarled at me, but he had no choice but to obey, and I knew that would stick in his craw but good. I waited, arms crossed over my chest, until he left the kitchen and stomped off down the hall.

“It’s not wise to taunt him,” Owen said from beside the fireplace. His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Jackie shook her head and went back to the stove. “If he wants to beat me, he’s gonna beat me, and y’all know it. If I give him a piece of my mind first, at least the bruises don’t sting so bad.”

“Hobie’s never taken my risin’ above him in the ranks with good grace,” I added. I was seething from the way he’d treated Jackie, but I needed to keep my cool. “All he needed was a good excuse to challenge me again. Hobie’s a trumped up bully who thinks he can take me.”

“I hope y’all cave his nose in,” she muttered, dumping the blackened contents of her pan into the trash. My bacon hadn’t survived the encounter, either.

“What the hell are y’all doing?” I heard Collin grump from the hallway. “Why is breakfast burning?”

“Because that awful Hobie ruins everythin’ he ever comes near,” Jackie snapped. I don’t think I’d ever heard that child raise her voice to Collin before. “He insulted Owen and challenged Sam to a fight.”

Our second is no slouch. He came over and cupped her cheek in his hand, touching the healing cut on her lip. “I just bet he did. You take him up on that challenge, Sam?” 

“Yes, sir. We meet in an hour.”

Collin gave me a serious, searching look. “I’ll inform the Alpha,” he said, satisfied with whatever he’d seen in me. He nodded, let go of Jackie and gestured at her. “He’ll want to deal with Hobie for this, anyway, and if he doesn’t, I will. He has no business striking a women.”

“Yes sir,” I agreed, tamping down my wolf’s craving for Hobie’s blood. Best to save that for the ring.”

“And Sam?” Collin said as he turned to go.

“Sir?”

“Kick his ass.”

I blinked, wordless, while the pack second left to tell Alec what we’d gotten up to. For all he was fussy, cranky, and had fits when things were disorganized, Collin tended to stay neutral in pack squabbles, not taking one side or another. He didn’t hate me for being gay like some of the wolves, though he wasn’t totally comfortable around me, but I’d had no idea he had an active dislike for Hobie. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who didn’t care for bullies.

“You’ll need someone to stand as your second,” Owen said.

I’d forgotten about that part. I didn’t have a whole lot of friends in the pack, not wolves I’d trust to have my back in a challenge. “Heh, yeah,” I agreed, feeding half-burnt bacon to one of Alec’s St. Bernards. “Normally I’d ask you if you’d stand up with me,” I ventured. Owen had stood with me for previous challenges I’d fought, but he’d been awfully out of sorts since yesterday. “Wasn’t sure if you’d want to, though.”

“I would be happy to help.” Owen’s expression wasn't quite right, pinched with anger as it was, but it was close to normal. “It’s a pity the rules won’t let me hold him while you beat him.” 

“Appreciate it,” I told him. At least he was talking to me again, and if he’d agreed to be my second in the fight, it couldn’t be too bad.

“I suppose you’re too old to keep you out of this mess, now. Dominance fights are held in the show ring in the old breeding barn,” Owen told Jackie. “Noncombatants sit in the hay loft. Stay with Evelyn when it starts and you’ll be fine.” She nodded, wide eyed. 

I dumped the burnt bits of bacon even the dogs wouldn’t eat into the trash can, dropped the pan in the sink to soak, and went to the fridge for more. “If Hobie’s fighting me, he won’t be botherin’ you, Miss Jackie,” I told her, laying out new strips of bacon in a fresh pan.

“He has friends. I'll stay close to Evelyn. Y’all got my word on that.” 

“Y’all stay safe, darlin’. I’d be upset if somethin’ happened to you.”

Jackie turned concerned eyes on me. “You best worry about yourself, sugar. That Hobie’s a mean one.”

“I’ve handled him before, and I’ll do it again,” I assured her.

“If you lose, I’ll take him out with the rest of the trash.” Owen sounded a little too pleasant. The smile he flashed showed a few too many teeth. Jackie eased around me with her bowl of batter until I was standing right between them. The way he was acting, I couldn’t blame her for wanting a shield just then. I’d known Owen for almost twenty years, and I’d never seen him so manic.

“I’ll deal with him,” I told Owen. He nodded and went back to repairing the fireplace.

I shook my head and concentrated on breakfast. The fireworks wouldn’t begin until after we finished eating.


	6. Challenge Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bluegrass Pack pays witness to a dominance challenge, but who will come out on top?

There were several barns on the Alpha’s property, the newer of which were nicer than my house. Only the best for Alec’s thoroughbred horses. Dominance challenges for the Bluegrass Pack were held in the oldest of the three, a stone barn that was nearly as old as the country. The box stalls had been torn out on one side to make more space for storage, and reinforced with steel and silver on the other. Wolves that lost control spent time in those cells. I’d woken up in one, back when I was new. The hay loft above the safe rooms served as the pack’s bleachers whenever there was a formal challenge. Between the assassination in Boston and Owen’s fight, most of the pack had come to Alec’s, and they filled the makeshift stands now for my fight with Hobie.

Our Alpha was there, too, but it was his second who did most of the presiding over dominance fights. Alec stood apart on the sidelines, his expression unreadable while Collin arranged things to his satisfaction. As the challenged party, I took my place on the far side of the ring with Owen. The ring was marked out with a sturdy fence set into the clean-swept old brick floor. No gym mats for us. That floor hurt if you took a fall wrong, but it did have a way of ending fights quicker. 

Hobie was on his own across from us, standing without his second. “How do you want this to end?” Owen asked, his voice pitched for my ears alone. “You have every right to kill him.” 

“I don’t need him to die,” I said. “I just need him beat down hard enough to make him think twice about tryin’ me again.”

“Submission it is.” 

Collin vaulted the fence and strode into the center of the ring. The hoots and hollers from the hayloft jumped up a notch, tension and anticipation filling the air. Not much got my packmates wound up like the prospect of a good fight. Collin scowled, stuck two fingers in his mouth, and let out a sharp, shrill whistle. I jerked back and covered my ears until the grumbled complaints from the hayloft died away.

“Now that I have your attention,” the dour-faced pack second growled, “challenge has been given and accepted. We will go over the rules before we begin, since _some_ of you can’t seem to remember what they are from fight to fight.” Collin shot a pointed look at the hay loft. Aggie, the pack’s third female wolf, wiggled her fingers at him and giggled. She was well known for diving into the fray when she got overexcited.

I would have asked Aggie to stand up with me if Owen said no, but I was glad he hadn’t. While I had no doubt she’d have agreed, Aggie was plum nuts. She wouldn’t wait until one challenger or the other was down. After everything that happened yesterday, I couldn’t afford to give Hobie any excuse to muddy the outcome of this fight. I had to beat him fair and square.

“Fighters stay within the ring,” Collin continued. “Any wolf who leaves the ring for more than a ten-count—or is tossed out and fails to return—forfeits the match. Any wolf who loses control and starts to shift forfeits the match. Unless otherwise stated, all fights are to the last wolf standing, _not_ to the death.” He gave Hobie a sharp look. 

“Take him down, Hobie!” someone shouted from the gathered crowd, and Collin glowered at the pack until they all shut up again.

“Fists and feet and bodies only,” Collin said. “You can use what God gave you, but nothing else. No outside weaponry. No improvised weaponry. Dueling pistols are specifically prohibited—”

That one had always confused me a little, since most of the Bluegrass Pack were brawlers, and it’d been a century or two since pistol duels were a common thing. Owen told me ours was the only pack that fought with seconds, though. There were a lot of holdovers from the old dueling rules.

“—Outside interference by other pack members to help _or_ hinder is strictly forbidden, and yes, I’m looking at you, Agatha.”

“You’re still a stick in the mud, Collin!” Aggie shouted back from her perch above us on a hay bale.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Collin said sourly. “As I was saying, other wolves not participating in the challenge count as improvised weaponry. Each fighter names a second to negotiate their terms. No one but the seconds enter the ring without issuing a challenge. If you jump in otherwise, you will be shot.” He jerked his chin toward the pack third. Marlow was up in the hay loft with the rest of the rabble, but I saw the gleam off the end of his rifle all the same. “I will kill you to keep this fight fair. Sam, as the challenged party, name your second.”

I cleared my throat. “Owen Thomas.”

Owen vaulted over the fence into the ring. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Fine,” Collin growled, looking across the ring. Nobody had joined Hobie in the challenger’s pen. He was too busy slicking back his greasy blond hair to notice how Collin’s jaw twitched at the sight of him. “Hobie, you’ve got less than a minute to get your second in the ring or you forfeit your right to negotiate terms. You know the damn rules.”

“My second is Andrew Rutledge.”

Owen told me the pack dated back to the earliest days of America as a country, and we did things a little different because of it. For us, having seconds wasn’t just a holdover from the days when gentlemen settled their differences with swords or guns. The pack rules said our seconds could issue immediate challenge to the victor. You had to pick somebody you trusted to clean up after you in case you lost. Hobie was a dick, but he was a smart dick. He’d picked his second well. If I won, Andrew would be out for my blood. I knew I could take Hobie down as long as I didn’t do anything stupid, but Andrew ranked above me and we’d never fought before. 

Andrew jumped down from the hayloft, landing on his feet like a cat. I kept my concern off my face. The pack’s rules for dominance fights had always meant I could end up facing two wolves today. The last time I’d fought Hobie, his second had declined to take me on, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to get that reprieve today. 

“Sam knows what a relief it would be to unburden the pack of that filth,” Owen said. A few folks jeered, but most of them clapped. “As some of you have poor enough taste to like Hobie, Sam is offering terms for submission.” 

Andrew wasn’t smiling as much as he usually did. I bet his jaw still hurt from the beating he’d taken yesterday. “Hobie disagrees. His opponent brought trouble to our pack, problems Hobie is trying to correct.”

“As the challenged party, Sam has final say.” Collin gave us all the stink eye.

“Submission,” Owen insisted. 

“Then the fight is over when one wolf submits, or otherwise can’t continue fighting,” Collin said. Owen gave a shallow bow and jumped back into the pen.

“You heard Collin. Kick Hobie’s ass.”

For the first time since the verdict of the trial in Boston, I cracked a grin. It was more toothy than friendly, but fitting given the circumstances. “With pleasure,” I said, and vaulted the fence into the ring. Across from me, Hobie bounced on the balls of his feet with barely contained energy and violence. I shucked off my flannel shirt and the t-shirt beneath it and tossed them back to Owen. Jeans and boots were more than enough for a fight. It gave him less clothing to try to grab and use for leverage and saved me replacing whatever he ruined. Hobie had taken off his button down, but he looked like he was heading to work at his car dealership. I bet his dress shoes would slip and slide all over the brick floor.

“I’m takin’ you down, boy,” Hobie sneered at me. He couldn’t seem to hold still, his fists moving in a series of quick jabbing punches like a boxer. He was fast, I’d give him that. So was I, which I could use if I was careful. Most folks assume big means slow, but that ain’t the case with werewolves. I had at least fifty pounds of muscle on him and four or five inches in the height department. I just had to keep him from pulling a nasty trick and face-planting me into the brick floor.

I rolled my shoulders and twisted my neck to the side until it cracked. I declined to answer his taunt when the pack started up with the cheering and hooting again. I heard paper rustling in the hay loft, lottery tickets and cash changing hands as folks bet on the outcome. Hobie had a lot more friends in the pack than I did, and not everybody’d been pleased when I displaced him a few years ago. Some of them were hoping he’d get back a little of his own today. He snapped off another quick punch that connected with my jaw. Hit like a piledriver and rattled my teeth, but I just gave him a slow blink like it hadn’t hurt at all, and smiled unpleasantly back at him.

Behind us, the noise redoubled from the crowd. Fight smarter, not harder, Rob liked to say. Hobie’s weakness was thinking he was the smartest man in the room. I stumbled over the edge of one of the brick pavers and Hobie pounced. I was waiting for him. The movement hid the fist I drove into his stomach, knocking him back a few steps. He retreated before I could follow up, coughing. I’d knocked the wind out of him, but not solidly enough to take him down. I saw a wary light enter his eyes as we circled again. Hobie’d forgotten how hard I could hit.

They thought I was soft because I was gay, because I didn’t talk much around the pack, because for years I’d been a lone wolf forced to run from them, rankless, living on their territory only because the Alpha allowed it. The makeup of the pack was a lot different now than it’d been when I was first Changed. Wolves had died, or moved to or from other packs, but werewolves gossip, so even the newcomers knew the stories. The shock and hurt I’d suffered at Rob’s forced departure had just reinforced that narrative. Yesterday I wouldn’t have cared what they thought of me, Hobie included, but if I wanted to keep my place in the ranks, I had to show them, again, they’d misjudged me.

This time, I went after him. He blocked my hits, but the force of my punches pushed him backwards toward the edge of the ring. In fights between wolves, size counts for a lot, and I had it in spades. Hobie made the mistake of meeting my eyes and began to automatically submit, but then I saw his brows lower. He started hitting back rather than just blocking me. He was holding his ground. He wasn’t gaining any, but he’d stopped backing toward the fence. The crowd noise was deafening, but I tuned it out to concentrate on the fight.

Hobie lashed out low with a fist that glanced off my left side just above the hip. The blow sent a spike of pain all the way down to my toes and forced me to hop back a step and shift all my weight to the right leg when the left threatened to give out. Dammit. Hobie’s eyes lit with recognition when he spotted the weakness, and he immediately focused the brunt of his attacks on my left, forcing me to stay off balance.

That goddamned train bridge and the wolves who’d pushed me off it could both go rot. Most things, we heal up fine. Broken bones, bullet wounds, it’s all the same when you’re a wolf. Sometimes, the healing the wolf brings is more hindrance than help. They’d shattered my hip and my pelvis all those years ago, and they didn’t knit back together quite right. Owen’s doctoring skills were more than up to the task for most situations, but by the time he reached me, my bones had already begun to heal wrong. Some bones you can re-break, set ’em right, but joints were beyond Owen’s skills.

Most days, my hip didn’t hurt me anymore. I’d had the limp for almost a year, and the leg had never been quite as strong. Hobie took full advantage of the old injury come back to haunt me. He backed me halfway across the ring and forced me to go on the defensive. I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain. I wasn’t as good at blocking as Hobie, and some of his hits got through. He’d cracked at least one of my ribs, but not before I bloodied his nose and gave him a shiner I thought would last a good while even with the wolf helping him heal. 

Hobie hit my weak hip with a knife-blade strike, the same as Jackie had done to him in the kitchen. The blow made my whole leg go numb and useless. I’d already been off balance, but I fell for real this time. Hobie howled in triumph and dove for the kill. I rolled so he missed pinning me to the brick, twisting out of his grip. My elbow slammed him in the temple more by accident than design. It wasn’t much, but it knocked him away and gave me a chance to scramble to my feet. 

He pushed the advantage with my weak leg, working me back to the fence that ringed the indoor arena. My left leg was numb and aching down its whole length. I could put weight on it, but my leg forced me to move at a hobble. “Give in before I put the real hurt on you, boy,” Hobie sneered up at me. “Then maybe you can walk away from this rather’n crawl.”

Hobie talked big, but he was breathing at least as hard as I was. I hunched my shoulders and grunted at him. I didn’t have the air to talk. He must’ve thought I was surrendering, hunched like that, because I saw him relax. I wasn’t gonna get a better chance. I launched myself at him, pushing off with my good leg. 

I caught him in a flying tackle that sent the breath out of his lungs in a huff. When he tried to brace, those slick shoes slipped on the brick like I’d predicted, and his feet went right out from under him. Hobie hit the bricks beneath and took the worst of the fall, the back of his skull cracking hard on the old flooring. I felt his body go slack with the shock of it, though it wasn’t enough to kill the thick-headed ass. 

This one wouldn’t yield to me, not willingly. I wedged my arm over his throat while he was down. He struggled when I cut off his air, but it was easy enough to keep him pinned. Hobie beat at me with the arm I hadn’t secured. I held on doggedly while the hits grew weaker and weaker, and only when Hobie’s free arm flopped loosely back to the brick did I risk glancing up at Collin.

“Sam wins,” the pack second called over the pack’s resulting roar. I couldn’t tell how much of the noise was triumph and how much anger, but I didn’t feel like opening myself to the pack bonds to see who was glad I won and who still hated me. “Now let him up before he chokes to death.”

I climbed to my feet, trying not to favor my bad hip. Nothing I’d done to Hobie would cause him permanent harm, more’s the pity. I ran a hand over my rib cage and hid a grimace at the twinge of pain. Maybe not broken, but I had a nasty bruise at the very least. I couldn’t afford to show the pain with Andrew in the ring, bearing down on me like a steam engine. That was the problem with having seconds in a dominance fight. I was still trying to catch my breath and shake off Hobie’s hits, while Andrew was fresh to pummel me back into the brick. At least he was supposed to see to Hobie first before he could come at me.

“Steady there, Sam. Can you walk?” Owen’s voice was pitched low so it wouldn’t carry beyond us, though that was pretty unlikely given the noise from the pack. The hollering had yet to die down.

“I can walk,” I told him, keeping my voice at the same level. The wolf wouldn’t let me show weakness, especially not now. I felt Owen’s hand on my arm, surreptitiously steadying me when I stepped back toward the fence. Seconds helped their competitor, and then the loser’s second had a chance to challenge the victor. Me.

Andrew just looked at Hobie and kept on coming, stepping over the obnoxious wolf as he coughed and stirred weakly. I stopped, bracing myself for the hit. Charging me before Hobie was out of the ring was a little unorthodox, but not against the rules. It was very like Andrew to deny me any chance to catch my breath. I’d already half turned away from Hobie and there was no time to fix my stance with my hip hurting as it did. Andrew bowled into Owen and I, and the three of us went down in a tangle of limbs on the hard bricks.

The blow I expected never landed. Next thing I knew, somebody grabbed me by the back of the neck and flung me away from the fight. I rolled and fetched up hard against the fence not far from Hobie, rattling my teeth and doing my injured hip no favors. I raised my head just in time to see Andrew tear into Owen’s back.

I was close enough to see the rage come over Owen. He had always been one of the gentlest werewolves I’d ever known, kind even, though I knew he had a temper to match his brilliant red hair. He controlled himself better than almost every other werewolf I’d ever met. The look that came over him didn’t belong on the face of the friend I’d made all those years ago. Death blazed in his eyes. 

I only found out it was legal after the fight, when Collin swore as much to the Marrok. Werewolves can hear lies, and nobody was stupid enough to lie to the biggest, baddest wolf of us all. Seconds attacking each other instead of the combatant wasn’t normal, but neither Collin or the Alpha tried to stop them. They were going to kill each other, and if I didn’t get out of the ring before they noticed me, I’d be going to hell alongside them.


	7. Submission

Andrew and Owen hit each other hard and fast, more on Andrew’s side of the ring than mine. The intensity of it had me shoving to my feet before I even had time to think about what I was doing. Blood spattered the brick underfoot when they broke apart. Andrew was missing a few teeth, blood streaming freely from his nose, and Owen wore a long line of bloodied gouges down his ribs. Andrew’s first attack had left his shirt in shreds.

Owen moved too fast for me to follow, werewolf or not. He did something that made Andrew roar in pain and dragged him back into the fences. The whole ring shuddered with the force of the hit. The usual jeers and catcalls from the pack had faded into silence. The only sounds in the big old barn were the hurt noises Andrew was making. Almost twenty years I’d known Owen, and I’d never seen him like this. From the shock welling in the pack bonds, most everybody else hadn’t either, even the ones who’d known him a lot longer than I.

“Dammit, Owen,” I murmured. I glanced at the wolf I’d knocked out. He was semi-conscious, and it would be a minute or two before he really came around. I’d never liked Hobie, but I couldn’t let a fellow packmate blunder into the middle of a death match. Ignoring my protesting muscles, I caught Hobie under the arms and dragged him back over to the fence where the pack second was waiting. If nothing else, Collin could keep an eye on him. I heard bone crack across the ring and another pained grunt from Andrew when I straightened up, and hid my wince.

Owen had Andrew seriously overmatched. I wasn’t friends with Andrew, but I didn’t want to see him die. The man had a human wife and kids. He’d gone after the other wolf in anger, because he thought Owen humiliated him, but none of us could have guessed Owen had hidden so much of his dominance. If Andrew had any inkling of Owen’s temper, he’d almost certainly have let it go, but now he’d pay the price for his pride with his life. So would his family. Andrew wasn’t a friend, but he was pack. I’d lost my mate yesterday. I didn’t care to think of Andrew’s wife suffering the same.

In the ring, Owen slammed a fist into Andrew’s temple, knocking the other wolf to his knees. I gripped the fence until the wood creaked in protest. I didn’t want to see my friend kill, not like this. He’d gone far beyond a second’s duty to watch my back. Neither Alec or Collin had called a halt, and Marlow would shoot anyone else who set foot in the ring. No one could interfere. The only wolves who had permission to be here were the ones involved in the fight, and Hobie and I weren’t really part of it anymore. 

“Collin,” I entreated. “My fight with Hobie’s over and done with. Can’t you stop this?” 

The pack second shook his head, his eyes on Owen and Andrew. “Seconds fighting like this is unorthodox, but... I’m sorry, Sam. It has to play out.” 

Frustrated, I turned my attention back to the fight. Andrew struck out weakly, but Owen batted the punch aside. He had Andrew half-stunned, entirely on the defensive now. The losing man looked up at Owen with desperation I could smell all the way across the ring.

Owen snarled and Andrew dropped, his skin rippling as battered muscle and bone were forced to transform below the surface. I winced in sympathy. The Change always hurt, but forced Changes were the absolute worst. Andrew Changing meant he’d lost the fight. In truth, all he’d done was make himself completely helpless until the transformation finished. Somehow I didn’t think Owen would give him that long, and my friend didn’t seem interested in submission.

My friend grabbed the vulnerable wolf by the throat and dragged his Change-raw skin over the pavers to the fence by the challenger’s pen. The tightly controlled way he moved told me Owen was still in charge over his wolf, but that wasn’t any good for the rest of us. Wolves don’t play with their food before they kill it. Humans, we’re a little less civilized that way. Owen could’ve ended the fight, or killed Andrew clean as soon as the Change took him. He made the other man hurt as much as possible instead. Any contact during the Change was like being slapped with the worst sunburn you can imagine. Being dragged over that rough brick had to be pure agony. 

I looked again to my Alpha and Collin, but they were both stone-faced. They weren’t going to interfere, even as we all watched Owen torture a packmate. There’d be hell to pay once Andrew was dead, but they were going to let Owen kill him. I wondered how much of the friend I’d known and trusted would remain once he finished this. It made me sick to my stomach. 

They could stay by the fences if they wanted to. I had to do something. 

Pushing through the ache in my injured leg, I stepped away from Collin and Hobie, out of the pack second’s shadow and back into danger. Owen was more dominant than me, so he could ignore me if he chose, but there was one thing I could do that would force him to pay attention if he wouldn’t listen to reason first.

“Owen, fight’s over.”

He whirled in my direction with a snarl on his lips, but he didn’t drop Andrew. “Stay out of this, Sam.”

“No,” I replied, though it made my wolf quiver to defy someone more dominant than us. “You wanted to know my terms when this all started. Submission. He’s out of the fight. So are you.”

Owen snarled at me. The look in his eyes backed me up to the fence before I knew what hit me, but it didn’t stop me from talking. “Damn it, Owen. You looked after me for years. You’re my friend. I can’t sit by and watch you destroy yourself like this.”

Bitter laughter bubbled up from Owen. “You don’t know me at all. Stay. Out. Of. This.”

The command shivered over my skin, and it took everything I had to disobey. My fingers cramped so tight my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. The pain helped clear my head. I thought of Owen as I knew him, of the wolf who’d gotten me help when I was newly Changed, taught me the rules, showed me how to hunt, checked in on me constantly even after the pack rejected me, who shadowed me for a year after the incident with the train bridge just to make sure no one tried to jump me again. Owen had never liked Rob for reasons I hadn’t been able to discern, but he didn’t question my choice of partners. He’d even taken on Andrew yesterday when I was too shell-shocked from the loss of Rob to fight back, even though there were six ranks between them. I knew Owen cared about me, so I had to get his attention. I gritted my teeth, raised my head, and my gaze found Alec and Collin.

“You still wanna beat on somebody?” I ground out as I fought the order Owen had thrown at me. “Fight me. It’s my fight you’ve hijacked. That’s grounds for challenge.” I had no doubt he’d wipe the floor with me, especially given that I was still hurting from my fight with Hobie. If this was what it took to get through to him, I’d take my lumps and gladly. The barn was so quiet all I could hear was Andrew’s labored breathing.

Owen snarled. “Damn it, Sam!”

“If you need a punching bag, take it out on me,” I told him. “He’s done, Owen. Look at him.” Andrew was still caught halfway between man and wolf, twitching feebly in Owen’s grasp. “Nobody has to die today.”

“I don’t want to fight you.”

“Well, I don’t wanna fight you, either,” I told him, “but I will. Please, Owen. Andrew was stupid to come at you the way he did, but I’m pretty sure he’s learned his lesson.”

Owen dumped the unfortunate, still-changing wolf to the floor and stalked toward me with murder in his eyes. I stood my ground and let him come. One way or another, his fight with Andrew was over. The other wolf was beaten, and he knew it. If Owen still needed to go a few rounds tossing me around to get it out of his system, so be it. When he put a hand on my chest and shoved me back into the fence, I didn’t fight him.

“He doesn’t deserve to live,” Owen snarled in my face.

“He was stupid,” I reiterated, keeping my gaze on the bricks. I’d called challenge to get him to listen to me, but I didn’t want to fight him unless there was no other choice. “And angry. You showed him up yesterday, and he overreacted. He went after us both, and he was wrong. He misjudged you and lost. You didn’t ask for this. You don’t have to kill him,” I pointed out. 

“You’re the _last_ person I’d expect to ask for mercy for that one after what he called you,” Owen growled. At least he was talking instead of beating me to a pulp.

“I’ve been called worse things,” I pointed out. “Probably will be again, too. I don’t like Andrew. He ain’t my friend, and probably never will be, but he’s still pack. We ain’t cats to play with our kills, Owen.”

He laughed, dark and bitter and raw with things I didn’t want to expose to the light. “What we are is much worse.”

“But it don’t have to be. You taught me that,” I reminded him quietly.

His nostrils flared. “I was wrong,” Owen rumbled, pinning me against the fence.

“So you mean to tell me you’ve been feedin’ me bullshit along with your cathead biscuits and gravy for the past couple decades?” I asked, keeping my voice mild. “That don’t sound much like you.” 

He laughed again, pushing me back so hard that one of the rails broke behind me. Werewolves are tougher than wood. “You don’t know me, Sam.”

“I know you ain’t lied to me,” I countered while the splintered rail dug into my back. If I could keep him talking, maybe he’d cool down enough to be reasonable. “Or at least that you believed what you told me. I know you’re my friend, and I care about you. I’m pretty sure you care ’bout me, too. That’s enough for me.”

Owen sneered. “You trust me. Do you have any idea how easy it would be to put you out of your misery?”

“Knowin’ you could break my neck if you wanted ain’t the question. If you were gonna do that, you’d’ve done it almost twenty years ago when you first found me,” I said. I was pretty sure Owen wouldn’t kill me. Pretty sure. Nothing was a hundred percent certain, after all. “Yes. I trust you.”

He shoved me into the fence with enough force to break the other rails. One more shove, and I’d be out of bounds. There was blood running down my back and shoulders. It was hell on my hip to brace myself on the bricks, but I held my ground. Owen was my friend, I just had to get him to remember that.

“You told me yesterday you’d put too much time into me to let me commit suicide by asshole,” I reminded him. “That still count if the asshole is you?”

That made him flinch. I took that moment to steal a glance at Andrew. He wasn’t quite finished with his Change, but at least he was still breathing. The rise and fall of his chest was shallow, but present. If I couldn’t get Owen to see reason, I might still be able to buy Andrew’s wolf enough time to crawl out of the ring once the Change was done. If he got outside the fence, that would end the fight, too.

“I don’t wanna fight you, Owen,” I told my friend. “Can we just call it good for now?”

“I…” He wavered. I saw the guilt and agony that shone in his eyes, gone nearly as fast as it appeared.

“You c’n always challenge him later if he steps outta line again,” I said gently. “You proved your standing, and I proved mine. Ain’t nobody gonna a question it, not after that.”

He twisted to look up at the hay loft. The whole pack was silent, just watching. Whatever he saw in them made Owen hiss and pull back from me, bloodied fists and all. 

A pair of boots thumped down beside mine. “Fight’s over, Owen.” I twisted my head to the side to flash my throat to the Alpha. Alec didn’t acknowledge it, but he stepped in between me and Owen.

“I withdraw my challenge,” I told the Alpha’s back. “Owen’s dominant to me.” Submitting put the ball in his court.

“Yes, I am.” I wasn’t sure I liked this new angrier Owen all that much.

Alec didn’t move. “Fine. Fight’s over. Get out of the ring.”

With the Alpha between us, I couldn’t see Owen anymore, but I heard him growl. I risked another glance at the target of his anger. A brown wolf with black tipped ears and one cream colored haunch lay where the man had been, panting heavily on the bricks. Andrew’s head was down and his ears were flat, in the least threatening posture I’d ever seen a werewolf display.

Owen stalked a few steps away and stopped again. His back was to Alec and I, his attention focused on Andrew.

“I called your wolf when I could have killed you, _ought_ to have killed you,” Owen growled at the miserable wolf after a small eternity. Andrew rolled to his back, tail tucked firmly between his legs. In front of all those witnesses, Andrew bared his entire throat and belly to the man who loomed above him. “You’re right. It’s over. He submits,” Owen spat. “I have no need for his head.”

Alec had him by the neck before I could breathe. He forced Owen’s head up, forced my friend to his knees on the unforgiving brick. The Alpha’s anger simmered through the pack bonds. Alec was a pretty hard one to read most of the time, but right now he was pissed and we all knew it.

“You took this too far,” Alec told him, his voice barely above a whisper. Everyone in the barn heard him all the same. “He submitted. He Changed. And you were still going to kill him, a member of your pack.”

Owen tipped his head back further, baring his throat. “He was after Sam. I’m sorry.”

“Dominants protect all of those beneath them, not just their blood kin. You know this.” Alec shoved Owen away from him and sent him sprawling on the brick. “I think you’ll remember it better outside of my house.”

“Alec—”

“Get out,” he snarled. “Your rank stands, but you will not darken my doorstep until I say otherwise.”

The pack house was a sanctuary for anyone who needed it, but being kicked out of the house meant something more for Owen. Most wolves in the pack had their own homes, myself included. My friend, though, he lived in one of Alec’s upstairs bedrooms. It’d been his home the whole time I’d known him. Getting kicked out of Alec’s house was tough. I didn’t know if he even had another place to go.

He’d helped me find my feet when I was new and made sure I stayed on the level. I’d never seen Owen act this way before, never. It didn’t matter how much it scared me or my wolf. I wasn’t gonna leave a friend out to rot in the cold, even if it earned me a share of the Alpha’s anger.

“You can stay at my place.”

Owen’s gaze snapped to me, the wild beast from the fight still lurking in his eyes. I had to work to keep my composure instead of dropping to my aching knees. I wasn’t entirely certain whether it was the man or the wolf looking out at me. Nobody said a word. I kept my eyes on the floor, listening while the second and third herded the rest of the pack out of the barn.

Free of any more challenges, I collected my t-shirt and flannel from the fence where Owen had left them. The scrapes on my back had already healed, and I felt the dried blood flake away when I pulled my clothes back on. Covering my cuts and bruises helped settle my wolf a bit. We felt less vulnerable when our injuries were concealed.

The Alpha stopped me with a hand on my shoulder when I would have left the barn, too. Collin was still there keeping an eye on the other combatants, but the rest cleared out pretty quick. “Collin, Hobie, take Andrew to the house to recover, and call his wife,” Alec ordered, turning toward me. “As for you.”

“Sir?” I asked carefully. The Alpha might be under control, but I knew now what Owen was capable of, and Alec made _him_ submit. I’d never look at either of them quite the same way again.

“Go home. Get cleaned up, eat, and rest. You call and check in twice a day,” he ordered. “Am I clear?”

I flashed my throat in submission. I’d rather call like a kid out after curfew than have the pack descend on my house. 

“Yes, sir.”


	8. Going Home

The silence grew long and uncomfortable between Owen and I when we left the barn after Alec dismissed us. The rest of the pack had gone back to the house, leaving us alone. He’d shut himself down so tight the pack bonds gave me no clue how he was feeling toward me or about anything else. I’d never had trouble talking to Owen before, but now I didn’t know what to say to him. I was in no condition to drive, but I took the keys to his car when he thrust them at me without a word. If my wolf was still wound up from the fight, Owen’s had to be a lot worse.

I’d have let him be, but he’d driven me to the Alpha’s house yesterday, so I didn’t have my truck here. Once we got to his sedan in the mess of cars crowding the long looping driveway, I paused to try and cudgel my brain into some semblance of order. I cleared my throat, but even then my voice was rough in my own ears.

“You okay?” I ventured.

Owen met my gaze briefly, and what I saw before I dropped my eyes from his made my resolve wobble. There was an awful lot my old friend had kept bottled up and hidden from me and everyone else. Maybe now that he’d let some of it out, he couldn’t stop it. 

“I'm fine.”

There hadn’t been horses in that barn for at least fifty years, so I didn’t blame the stink of horseshit on those graceful creatures. That was all Owen. 

“You don’t have to lie to me.” I ain’t ever been one to hold grudges. Seen that destroy too many people. I wasn’t sure I could say the same of my friend, though. The Owen I’d thought I’d known would have forgiven me for overstepping, but I didn’t know if that was still true.

“How’s your leg,” he replied rather than answer me.

“It’s fine,” I told him.

Owen snorted. “You don’t have to lie to me, either.”

“As fine as it’ll ever be,” I qualified. “Hobbie didn’t re-break anything. The nerves there just got kinda scrambled when it healed up after the bridge.”

“And don’t think I didn’t see you check your ribs. Anything broken there?”

“Well I ain’t coughin’ up blood and I can draw a full breath, so I expect not,” I said dryly.

“Cracked ribs aren’t a joke, even to us.”

I nodded. If it made Owen feel better to lecture me, I’d let him. “So long as I eat soon and don’t do anything else to aggravate it, should heal up fine. I didn’t feel the bone go, though, so I doubt he more than bruised me.”

Owen grinned, the expression fleeting. It hurt to see him smile like he didn’t mean it. “That’s because Hobie was outclassed.”

“Naturally,” I agreed with more levity than I really felt. “Gettin’ real tired of havin’ to remind him of that, though. Think maybe this time it’ll stick?”

“With Hobie, I’d lay even odds of his forgetting,” Owen sighed.

“That’s because Hobie has the memory of a diseased fish.” I hadn’t heard Evelyn approach, though the drive was gravel and she was wearing high heeled shoes. “That may be insulting to fish.” The blonde woman had one of Owen’s overnight bags on one shoulder and a gorgeous wolf by her side.

“Ms. Evelyn?” I questioned. “You comin’ with us, ma’am? Um, and why is Jackie a wolf?”

“I had her change before the fight,” she replied. “We’re both coming with you. You both need the company and someone who can drive.”

“All right,” I conceded. I’d held off getting in the car because I knew damn well I was too unsettled to operate a motor vehicle safely. Werewolves might survive car crashes, but accidents tended to attract attention, and Owen and I were still bloodied and battered from fighting.

“You’re inviting yourself to Sam’s?” Owen purred. The silk in his voice didn’t reduce the menace of his balled up fists.

Evelyn tipped her face up toward the afternoon sun. She always looked put together, but the sunlight made her something else, regal and otherworldly like Rob’s glamourless beauty. I’m gay, not blind. “I am inviting myself to the home of my pack brother, who is just as uninterested in me as I am in him. I am coming to take care of you.”

Owen stopped breathing for a minute. “Alec won’t like it.”

“Yes, and?” Evelyn smiled.

“You’re practically his mate.” He bit off the last word like a bullet.

“No, he knows there’s someone I like better.” Evelyn pushed through us and opened the back door for Jackie. The wolf hopped up on the seat and turned in a circle. Jackie was small by werewolf standards, but I knew from experience that most cars just weren’t built for four footed critters of our size. She wouldn’t be real comfortable no matter where she sat.

“I’ll sit in back with Miss Jackie if that’s okay,” I volunteered. I didn’t know whether or not Owen would want anyone at his back, but I should be safe. I’d acknowledged his dominance publicly, and the wolf would remember that even if the man didn’t.

“That’s fine, Sam, go ahead.” Evelyn took the keys from me, but Owen was faster. He brushed by her and held the door open when she climbed in.

I settled myself in the back as best I could. Most cars aren’t built for humans my size, either. Miss Jackie’s wolf ended up half sprawled in my lap, but that was okay. I didn’t mind, and the touch of pack was welcome right then. The fight had left me bone-tired, sore, hungry, and more than a little heartsick. The victory of proving I’d earned the rank I held was beat all hollow by Rob’s absence. There didn’t seem to be much point in celebrating it without someone to celebrate with.

Jackie’s wolf was quiet and mostly calm as Owen climbed into the passenger’s seat and Evelyn got the car started, but I caught a hint of fear and worry from her all the same. I couldn’t blame the girl. The dominance fights might be over, but the challenges were just beginning.


	9. Sanctuary

Evelyn drove us back to my place without any further incidents. We stopped off at a drive through along the way and picked up enough burgers to feed a peewee football team, which took the edge off. In a wolf pack, unmated females are technically the lowest ranking members, but Ms. Evelyn had never been one to let a little thing like that stop her, and after the past couple days I’d had, I wasn’t inclined to fight her over it. She took charge of us like we were students on the volleyball team she coached, getting Owen and I both properly cleaned up and fed. I think the only part that surprised me was how Owen let her do it.

By the time Evelyn was satisfied our hurts were healing properly, we’d had enough protein to sate our wolves, and wouldn’t bleed on the sheets, I was ready to drop anyway. Though it was still a little early, nobody fussed when she herded us up the stairs to bed. We slept in a puppy pile together in my bed, me in the middle with Owen on one side of me and Evelyn on the other, with Jackie’s wolf sprawled across our feet. I hadn’t been sure it would help, but the solid warmth of Owen’s back against mine and Evelyn’s soft breathing was more comforting than I’d imagined. I drifted off without any trouble. Normally I sleep pretty deep, and if I dream I don’t recall much when I wake up, but that night I dreamed. 

I was the wolf. That in itself wasn’t surprising. I dashed through a forest the like of which I’d never seen in my time on Earth, certainly no trees like this ever grew in Kentucky. The moon was high overhead and almost bright enough to be daylight, and the straight, slender trunks rose so tall I could barely see the canopy of delicate gold and silver leaves. Flowering vines in a riot of colors barely dimmed by the moonlight twined around the trees, filling the air with a heavy, sweet, wild scent. The ground where I ran was carpeted with soft, springy moss, and there were no fallen leaves, no deadfall branches or brush to trip me up. It was like someone’s manicured park, but it seemed to be endless. The perfection of it made me shiver with unease, but my wolf shook it off and picked up speed.

My wolf didn’t worry about where we were, or why. Those were human concerns, things the human part of my mind made idle note of while the rest of me gloried in the speed and power of my run. I didn’t slow until I detected a slight change in the perfect landscape, a lovely little stream that burbled as it trickled into a deep forest pool. It was the sort of place you could usually pick up the scents of lots of critters who’d come down to drink, but there was a curious absence of animal life here. A breeze ruffled my fur, and carried with it a scent I recognized. My ears pricked up, and I followed it up the small watercourse. 

Dreams have a way of bringing you to the object your heart most desires, my dear departed mother used to say. My dream led me to a place where the trees grew thicker, those flowering vines trailing from one trunk to the next and making passage more difficult. I ducked beneath a curtain of blooms that looked and smelled like no flowers I’d ever seen before and found myself entering a small clearing. A spring bubbled up out of the ground, the source of the stream I’d followed, and the scent I’d been chasing led to a man who knelt on a flat rock above the spring.

He was tall with broad shoulders and a willowy build, with whorls of gold on his bronzed skin that matched his long, straight hair. The latter had been brushed behind pointed ears to reveal a heart-wrenchingly beautiful face. He’d been humming something soft and sad, eyes downcast, but he stopped and looked up when I padded into his clearing, startled. The eyes were the wrong color, green, not blue. I’d seen him in this form only once before, but I _knew_ him, just as I had when he’d dropped his glamour in the living room. No matter what form he wore, I would always know him. I carried a piece of him in my heart, now and always.

_...Sam?_

Rob spoke my name in a bare whisper, as though he couldn’t believe I’d found him, and I leaped across the clearing to him, tail waving like a joyous flag. In that breathless moment, I forgot that I was mad at him for leaving so suddenly, forgot I was worried about him, and just drank in the presence I’d been missing since the fae vanished into their reservations. His fingers sank into my fur while I did my best to cover his face with earnest wolfy kisses, pulling a startled laugh from him. He sat back when I finally slowed down.

_This is… How did you…_ It was rare to see my love at a loss for words. _Sam, this is dangerous._

It seemed like a pretty forest to me, and I didn’t see or smell any dangers. “It’s okay, I’m dreaming,” I told him, and knew it was true because my wolf form couldn’t talk. Here, though, I could make the rules, so my wolf got to talk. “Pretty nice dream, though. I wanted to see you, wanted to find you. I followed your scent, and here you are.”

_Here I am,_ Rob agreed. He still sounded a little taken aback. I enjoyed the feeling. It wasn’t often I managed to get one over on my boyfriend. _You dream of me?_

“I miss you,” I said, folding my ears back. “Nothing’s been the same since you left.”

He looked away. _I’m sorry. I didn’t have much choice._

“You couldn’t’ve give me some sorta warnin’?” I snorted. “We find out the verdict of that trial, watch the fae react, and then five minutes later you’re just gone.”

His fingers clenched in my fur. _You deserved better than that._ I watched the conflicted expressions that flickered over his features, strange yet familiar. _But I couldn’t speak. There was a geas._

He’d been forbidden to tell me. I’d suspected that from his rushed goodbye, but it didn’t make it any less of a sore spot. “You could’ve tried,” I said dryly.

_I couldn’t be sure how things would fall out at the end of the trial. It didn’t leave me much time to tell you,_ he admitted. _I’m sorry._

I snorted again and planted one of my dinner-plate sized paws in the middle of his chest. “Six years might not be long to you, but it’s the longest span I can recall having happiness in my life,” I told him. “Maybe you still have to answer to your bosses, but don’t forget you’re _mine,_ too, and I’m yours. Mates.” The more I said it out loud, the more real it felt.

_Mates?_ I saw the beginnings of a smile curve his generous mouth. 

“Mates,” I confirmed. “Mine. Alec’s acknowledged it, too.”

_Far be it from me to argue with the supposed wisdom of Alpha wolves_ , Rob drawled, and sounded a bit more like his former self. His clever fingers trailed through my fur and found all the sore spots my fight with Hobie left behind. _That explains how you found me here. You have to be careful, Sam. Underhill is not a safe place, even for the dreaming._

A little thrill of happiness ran through me. “The mate bond. It lets me find you when I dream?”

Rob nodded, though he didn’t look quite as pleased as I was. _Dreams work differently for me._ Please, _Sam, heed my warning. I have enemies who would do you harm if they caught you._

”I’m fine. And I’ll be careful, but nothin’s gonna stop me from being with you as much as I can. I’ll risk whatever I have to for that.”

The snarl that tore from his throat sounded a lot like my wolf. It was a little terrifying to see the beauty of Rob’s new face twisted into something else, something dark and angry and more than capable of killing me, even for just the fraction of a second that it lasted before the other Rob faded away. He could be scary, but so could I. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

_You don’t know what you’re up against,_ Rob said when he was back in control. _Sam, love, please. Don’t look for me here again._

I wasn’t pleased with that idea, but it was rare for Rob to make that sort of entreaty. There wasn’t much that scared him, but he was afraid now, for me.

“All right,” I agreed with a sigh, though I was loathe to give up any time with him at all. “I won’t try to find you here again.”

 

He breathed in through his nose, his nostrils flaring a bit like Alec’s horses. _Good._

“You stay safe, too,” I reminded him. “You gotta come back so I can stomp around and yell at you proper and make you sleep on the couch.”

_Would you really make me do that?_ Rob asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“...Maybe,” I said, and we both knew it wasn’t true. I pushed my nose under his hand so he stroked it over my wolf’s ears. “I’m still mad at you, but I’m glad I found you.”

_As I am mad at myself, I feel you are in excellent company,_ he said with a modesty this face wore less convincingly than his human one. _And I am happy to see you. How do matters fare?_

I shook my head, ears folding back. “I ain’t had time for much of anything, aside from the pack,” I admitted. “Alec’s kept everybody pretty close since the incident in Boston, and tempers’re runnin’ high.” I didn’t mention the fights. It didn’t seem to matter right then.

_Ah._ He closed his eyes. _It will keep. The important thing is that you stay safe._

“Do you think,” I began, and then paused as a faint noise like a hunting horn reached my ears from far away. 

_Sam? What is it?_

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

Rob’s head went up, and I heard the horn sound again, a little closer this time. He froze like a deer will when they catch a predator’s scent. I saw his nostrils flare, but none of the dream scents around me changed.

_Sam, you_ must _leave this place, now,_ he told me, his voice urgent. _The Hunt has found your trail. I can hide you from them, but you have to go, love._ The scent of his magic, green growing things and water touched with sage and ever more faintly of horse, grew thick enough to make me sneeze. The trees at the corners of my vision started to go gray and translucent.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” I told him hurriedly, rushing to get the words out. Everything was going soft and fuzzy and I couldn’t feel his fingers in my fur anymore. “I love you—”

With no other transition I was awake in my bed, blinking sleep from my eyes. I sat bolt upright, inadvertently pulling the covers off my packmates in the process. Evelyn made a little noise of protest, and Owen was up like a shot. At the foot of the bed, Jackie’s wolf lifted her head.

“Sorry, sorry,” I mumbled, running my hands over my face. The memories of that otherworldly forest and Rob without his glamour were still painfully fresh in my mind.

“What is it?” Owen demanded, his voice a full octave lower than his mellow baritone. Moonlight glinted off the edge of a very long knife in one hand, a knife I didn’t remember him bringing to bed.

“Just a dream,” I told him. “A really damn vivid dream.” It had just been a dream, hadn’t it? Rob’s scent was still thick in my nose, and I must’ve been leaking all sorts of emotions into the pack bonds.

“Dreams can still hurt,” Evelyn murmured, sitting up on her elbows. She went still when a strange, moaning howl sounded outside the window.

“Th’hell is that?” I muttered, the hair rising on the back of my neck. No wolf had ever made a sound like that. Jackie crouched at the end of the bed, the fur on her back up in hackles.

Owen cocked his head. “Nothing mortal. You dreamed of him.”

“Of Rob. Yes,” I agreed. “My wolf… My wolf found him, talked to him. Had to be a dream, wolves can’t talk,” I said.

He nodded, prowling toward the window. The howls faded as my heart quit pounding so damn loud in my ears.

Jackie’s wolf crawled up the bed and rubbed her cheek against my arm like a cat. Evelyn put one hand on the wolf and the other on my shoulder. “He’ll come home to you.”

“I-I know, ma’am,” I said, and found I meant it. One way or another, he’d make his way back to me.

“Shh, it’s all right now. We’ll keep you safe until he’s back.”

The thought of Ms. Evelyn and sweet little Jackie protecting me ought to have been amusing, but right now it was just reassuring. With Ms. Evelyn humming and stroking my back and Miss Jackie’s wolf curled up against me, I was able to calm down a little. Owen put the knife away and came back to us. I leaned on him when he climbed back on the bed, grateful for the support. 

“Go back to sleep, Sam,” Owen told me. “Nothing out there will threaten us tonight.” 

That howl from outside had been pretty damn unnerving, but the sounds had long since moved away and faded to nothing. I had the strangest feeling I’d dodged a mystical bullet of sorts, and decided not to think about it too hard.

“If you say so,” I allowed.

“I do say so. Go to sleep.” He reached to tousle my hair, and I thought maybe any lingering hard feelings between us from the fight might just work out after all. I settled down, and the four of us curled up together again.

With my pack around me, anchoring me, I could feel Rob’s sly presence lurking in the shadows of my mind. The fae could take him from my bed, but not my heart. Closing my eyes I reached for that warm feeling I got when I thought of him, needing reassurance that I hadn’t imagined it. The answering pulse of emotion I got back almost knocked me out of bed. It was right there along with my pack bonds, similar, but different, vibrant and strong. My dream that wasn’t a dream had brought it it light. The mate bond gave me more feelings and impressions than words. It wasn’t the same as talking face to face, but it was enough.

_I’m here,_ his sending told me. _I love you, too._

Sweet relief curled through me, and some of the melancholy I’d fought off these past couple days melted away at the knowledge that my mate was alive, and I had a way to reach him. I hadn’t imagined the contact I’d had with him, even if it come in the form of a dream. As long as I had that, I could face whatever else life decided to throw at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, there's that one brought to a close! Thank you all for being patient and for your kind words of encouragement as we finished this one up. Don't worry, there's more for Rob and Sam yet to come! (Or maybe you should worry. Those poor, poor boys.)


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